Recipe For Life
by AkaiShinda
Summary: Arthur and Francis had a perfect little life in their bakery shop, until Arthur lost his fiancée and now he runs the business alone. He convinced himself about his hopelessness but after struggling for a year alone in the shop, he needs help. That's when his new employee has to teach the basics over again in his unique way.
1. Chapter 1

2010. Rhode Island, USA.

The thing is… that he hated to get up early. Always did. When they started this small shop together with his fiancée back then, he stayed in the bed till eight am and got ready for the paperwork later... The small shop was filled with the scent of fresh bread, scones, small cookies and baguettes, the atmosphere was cosy and warm... he couldn't imagine it otherwise. No one ever said a word about their sexual orientation, no one ever questioned their affection towards each other, or their job. They functioned perfectly, even if they had bad days or silly arguments. Francis loved him, and Arthur loved him too.

The idea of having a bakery belonged to Francis; this was his childhood dream and Arthur helped him to make it come true. He even followed his love from England to the US where Francis finally got green light from the government. Originally Arthur wished to work for literary journals and edit books but having a degree in mathematics beside literature made things easier to fulfil his love's dreams. Making an American degree as an accountant was a piece of cake after the French university teachers, and by that it was sure that he will work for their shop.

When the business was started, it was just as the tall and incredibly handsome French man imagined; in the morning children came by and bought their breakfast, busy women going to the offices hopped in, old women buying sweets for their old toothless husbands, pregnant ladies trying to figure out, exactly what taste did they crave for... They often saw the university students with hangover, trying to find their pockets for some coins to buy scones or businessmen on their way home, obeying to their wives trying to figure out what they meant by 'buy some bread that I like'.

He could admit that their life together was smooth, happy and content.

Three years has passed... until one day, when Francis has died.

It was an accident, though. He saved two girls and one boy, sacrificing his own life. He died, looking into Arthur's eyes, trying to focus and stay... but he couldn't.

With that, everyone thought that Arthur Kirkland has died too.

He couldn't let go. Francis left him speechless, without giving any advice or suggestion, how to go on. He didn't tell him that he hid their wedding ring under the stairs. He didn't tell, that secretly he liked Doctor Who. He... he just left.

And Arthur decided to stay alone, because he couldn't imagine anyone beside himself in the mornings and in the evenings. Opening the shop and getting ready, filling the piles and the shelves, flipping the Closed text to Open... In the first days after the funeral, it was unbearable.

There wasn't that scent of Francis in his nose after he washed the sheets a couple of times and he didn't want that. Francis' writing had disappeared from the fridge because even if he didn't clean them, the ink faded... His clothes remained on their places but no one touched them anymore. He couldn't. Later in the upcoming months he found himself standing in front of their wardrobe, looking at the man's clothing. The scent was gone. It was just the fabric.

He didn't delete his phone number either... the picture on the cupboard...

He got millions of presents, though. The costumers who came by every day, they brought him sweets, flowers and cards to tell him, he wasn't alone in his pain and other people had missed Francis too... but after all, Arthur accepted these respectable gestures with a nod. He didn't try to smile anymore. Francis left, and he was alone.

Arthur often woke up in the middle of the nights because his pillow was soaked in his tears, and he couldn't force himself to sleep back. He just sat in his bed, gazing out from his skull, trying to empty his mind. Francis was gone, but he stayed because he had to run the shop. He had to stay strong. But if he was there with him, for sure he might hug him and hold him...

Keep calm and carry on... waking up for the alarm clock every day at 4.15 am, gazing at the lonely teacup on the table. The chilly mornings of autumn and winter left a bitter pull on his lips while reading the news, without having anyone to express his opinion to. Even if Francis sometimes made sentimental comments on international issues, Arthur learned how to look at those romantic thoughts with their vast value. The flat was silent and empty, only the noises of the streets penetrated through the curtained windows. Along with the rhythmical ticking sound coming from the clock on the wall the monotone buzzing of the fridge made Arthur's thoughts puzzled at times.

Sometimes he was waiting for a sign, to see something happen around him. As he made his breakfast lone he often thought of melodies he heard long ago or forced self-assuring sentences out of his lips. He had told himself many hypocritical things just to keep going... he was fine alone, all could see. He kept the shop functioning as it was before, he kept the flat neat and clean, the flowers alive and... he was still waiting.

To close his eyes during breakfast became a regular thing to do, calming his tightening chest and his aching heart in the embrace of his ribs. After a long, resigned sign he breathed small utters about doing the same things over and over again... keeping the routine of the past. The habits which pierced through the almost invisible tissues of his weakened soul, hearing Francis' voice on the stairs to pay attention on his steps, don't forget the milk on the counter...

These times his own arms couldn't hold him warm and safe enough even if he forced the image of pride and dignity into his mind. Keep calm. And carry on.

Every single day in the shop started the same way. The truck came and departed around five, and as the time flew by it was still just him, hugging his sides and listening to the solitude of his mind as the sun crawled its way up to bring light in the shop around seven. The sunrise had always been beautiful and heart-warming to see, feeling the close presence of his beloved. It provided a sense of security, knowing that this will happen at all times, no matter what will happen to them.

Arthur watched the sunrise alone. Sometimes it was too hard to think how many times?

He knew, he felt that his fiancée was watching him from above and these times he cried even harder, or forced his face to stay blank. It became very hard to stay calm... but cold.

. . .

One and a half years has passed.

.."Hey... excuse me? Are you okay?"

"Sure." The voice didn't let him go. Arthur didn't look up on the costumer's face just handed him the change. "Thank you for choosing us."

Us... He had to close his eyes for a second or two, to collect himself and move on to check the baskets. If this goes on he will have to fill the buns, the twists and the croissants too which takes two and a half minutes when there is no costumer in the shop but with them...

"Are you sure? You... don't seem to be okay." The annoying guest distracted his thoughts over again and Arthur hissed under his nose.

The British man just blinked and turned his head towards the shelves of the white bread to pretend ignorance; the box was almost empty. He had to refill it so he turned to walk back to the storage when the guy's loud voice called after him.

"I heard you're looking for help."

What...? Arthur sighed but just stood in the doorway, leaning to it and covered his face with his left palm... god, he was tired... it was Monday, and of course after the weekend everyone rushed to buy bread and something to have for the basis of the sandwiches... right, he had to carry out the box of...

"Seriously, are you okay? You're like, fainting of something. Your face is all pale." He didn't see the boy's actions since he started walking back on the narrow corridor, not even caring about the happenings outside. He just murmured.

"I'm fine."

He had to go on just like before as he had told himself so many times, but the stranger stepped behind the counter and walked towards him; that was the point when he realized his position. His voice became sharp all of a sudden as he yelled at the impolite intruder.

"Get off here, wanker, stay out of that place!"

As he looked at the student's face (judging his age around twenty because he looked so young) he could see as he raised his eyebrow and shook his head before stepping back one or two, holding his hands up to his chest. He was obviously surprised at Arthur's sudden reaction so he backed off around half a meter. "Right on, boss, chill out!"

"Who do you think you are?!"

The other costumers in the shop started to pay attention on the scene and Arthur has never yelled with anyone before, everyone knew that. The guy in his brown leather jacket shrugged and stepped back again, probably because Arthur held a wooden staff in his hand which originally was meant for pushing boxes back and pulling them forth (it had a clamp on the top of it). He didn't remember when he got that among his fingers, but the stranger was still behind the cash register and this wasn't his place.

"Calm down, okay? I was trying to help you, can you even lift that stick up?" The boy pointed at the staff and now the owner of the shop realized how violent he might had seemed.

"I can." Arthur looked at the staff for a couple of seconds but in the end he just let it slide down on the ground and leaned it to the wall. The man in front of him tilted his head to one side when the Englishman sighed. His voice was awfully tired and slow and his eyes never looked up on the guest's figure again. "What do you want?"

"Basically... I wanted to buy a loaf of bread, but... maybe I could help you out if you don't mind."

At that, Arthur just chuckled... why... just why would someone do that if not taking advantage of his miserable situation? "No thank you. I'm fine. Please take your departure now."

And why did it had to be a typical American...

"I think you need help."

Was it that obvious? Arthur didn't look up to see the faces staring at him. He knew that almost the entire shop with all the approximately six people were looking at him, waiting for his answer. They all knew everything from the very beginning, he knew them because they were attending the shop for a long time. They saw him closing in, they saw him wiping away his emotions and turn into that automaton that functioned to run the business only. They knew... how Arthur Kirkland was, before the fall.

To accept help wasn't really a British kind of thing. Keep calm and carry on, they said... but Arthur couldn't stay calm anymore. Everywhere he looked he saw betrayal and the memory of being left behind... and one thing was sure... Francis wouldn't want him to be alone. He wouldn't want Arthur to run the shop alone which wasn't his idea originally...

He wiped his left eye before nodding and pointing behind his back carelessly. "In the storage, second shelf from the right, on the top. Get one of the boxes out and fill the seedless white bread basket."

"Got it, boss."

A couple of minutes passed because he served two schoolgirls and gave a loaf of bread to an old woman, when the young boy carried the asked box out and did what Arthur has told him. The owner of the shop looked at the way he packed the loaves out from the box, having very tight white gloves on his hands and without even realizing it, he nodded. He turned back to accept the money from another costumer, and when there were less people around, the man stepped beside him.

Again, Arthur didn't look on him. He pretended to check as if the cash register machine was alright but the guy cleared his throat. "What?"

"Can I work here?"

He raised his eyebrow at that. Indeed, in the mornings he needed some help to pack out, and sort the things, then to check the quality, the numbers, the signatures and start the whole shop and running it wasn't easy alone but he managed it himself, thank you very much...

"Please. I won't be under your foot, I promise. Maybe... sometimes I talk too much, but I pay attention, I swear."

No. This shop was Francis' and only his... if he hadn't agreed to have more employees, then... the decision is already done. He won't use the help of outsiders.

"Sir, I really need a job, I'm willing to do everything you tell me. I can.. clean..."

He walked beside the boy without looking up on him to check his identity, and put two baguettes in a paper pouch before handing them to the familiar old woman who came by every second day. "Thank you." He added, when the annoying lad demanded his attention again with his voice, not even caring about Arthur's routine of getting the coins and giving the change.

"I can repair everything and I am a hard working person, if you would give me one chance... please!" He really sounded in despair which couldn't affect the Englishman's heart... since he worked alone for one and a half years he had encountered many who begged for a workplace before this boy. He wasn't different either.

"Go home, kid." He answered coldly, not even giving a look to the boy. He heard the resigned sigh and the slow steps heading back to the costumers' area, in which they belonged originally.

"Sir, I wouldn't let you to do all this alone. I left a card on your counter if you need any help..."

He felt as the cold ran through his spine.

Alone? He wasn't alone, they ran the shop together before... and now he was alone. No... no, not the tears again... no... his throat tightened and he swallowed to keep the straight line of his mouth. He had to make a decision. Francis was gone. He was gone... it was up to him. He was the only person who had the right to say 'yes' or send the boy home already. He was the only one now, who could have a word in the shop's life, no one else.

Do all this alone.

Arthur shook his head and let out a resigned sigh of his lips.

"Alright. Come here, five in the morning, tomorrow. We'll see."

"Thank you. Thank you very much, Boss."

"It's Kirkland." His mind automatically added... Bonnefoy.

"Thank you Mr. Kirkland."

"What's your name, lad."

"Alfred Franklin Jones, Mr. Kirkland, and I'm twenty-four years old."

WHAT?! His eyes snapped open and he looked straight in the guy's face for the first time to examine him... and his heart skipped a beat. Neat, dark-blond hair, glasses, sky-blue eyes, handsome and clean face, white complexion... his figure was tall and well-built, not too muscular but Arthur could see the daily physical work on his shape. Converse, and simple dark-blue jeans, a white shirt and a brown leather jacket. He couldn't understand why would someone like that guy, who fit all the meanings of 'handsome', work in a bakery shop...

Fair enough.

"You'll need to change your shoes while you're here, and get a shirt that you'll use only here too. I'll get you an apron to protect your clothes but that's important. And if your hands are bigger than mine, I'll have to order another size of gloves for you too." Monotonously saying that he stepped beside the man to reach the cash register protectively. "But now please go back to the costumer's area."

..

Chapter1: edited


	2. Chapter 2

He didn't expect the boy to actually come and start working. In fact he was surprised to see him approaching the shop on the street on the next morning. He wore black jeans this time, the same Converse shoes and the jacket, zipped up to his chin. Arthur saw he was carrying a backpack, so hopefully he had his clothes there.

He himself was waiting for the truck to come and give him the ware, and for that he wore the apron and the dark blue jeans with training shoes. Of course, just like every day he had a white shirt on with black tie, and a knitted vest on the top. It wasn't so significant.

The boy, namely Alfred trotted to him and stopped to shake hands with him although Arthur didn't look up on his face. They were waiting in silence for some minutes until the American couldn't hold back any longer.

"This is my first day at a bakery."

Mr. Obvious. He didn't move at all as he answered.

"You should change your clothes first. Go in, and behind the counter on the left is the change room with the toilet too. And this is not a bakery since we do not produce the ware. We are just a shop which sells the products."

Alfred just stood there, almost like digesting the words but in the end he just left.

"I'll be right back."

Arthur almost slapped on his forehead just when the boy closed the door behind himself. Oh right... he forgot to bring down the other apron from the flat...

Arthur felt his mouth dry at the thought. He had only one other apron, which belonged to Francis... he couldn't just give it to this guy, couldn't he... it was... _his _apron, and... no one wore it since that day. For sure, this useless boy didn't carry one for himself... probably his mother's apron was pink or full of flowers.

Approximately five minutes later the truck was nowhere and Arthur checked his wristwatch again. It should have arrived by now. It's not that easy to pack out and get done with the paperwork in two minutes...

"So? What are we doing now?" Alfred appeared again by his side but Arthur didn't give much importance to it, something else popped into his mind.

"Did you wash your hands?"

The boy blinked and slowly shook his head in confusion, but before Arthur could say something he stepped back in the shop again. Gosh... he had to teach every tiny little thing to this guy...

It took around half a minute until Alfred appeared again; wiping his hands in a white paper towel, and forced the small white gloves on which meant to maintain the hygiene. "So... again? What are we doing now?"

"We are waiting for the truck to come and carry the ware. Then we'll pack the boxes down, give the driver the ones we had yesterday, count and check everything, sign the papers and goodbye. Usually this takes around five minutes because every morning we are in a rush. You'll have to pay attention too. Count fast and do not miss."

The boy was definitely taller than Arthur, at least with 3 inches. Just as he stood beside his new boss, Alfred was intimidating him and he had to step away. The American looked at him with the mixture of hurt and confusion in his eyes that Arthur saw only from the corner of his glance. He wasn't supposed to stand close to his employee anyway.

The truck turned in the corner and the haste began... he told Alfred to open the door wide, then come back and wait for the orders...

It was an enormous relief that he didn't have to climb the truck himself and give the boxes down to the driver who didn't give a damn about the commodities, the man just tossed the boxes on the ground and perhaps he had better things to think about, than placing boxes at five in the morning. It was Alfred who handed them now to him, and Arthur had put them safely on the ground, careful not to hurt any of the fresh loaves.

They were done in a very short time and Alfred quickly understood the situation; he began to count the boxes of baguettes and the three types of bread while Arthur checked the cookies and sweets. The driver stood silent beside his vehicle and handed the papers to the shorter blond, who signed the necessary places, rated the ware and handed back the pad.

"Thank you for your work." He said, and the driver nodded before driving away. He never said anything to him for a long time although he could see the momentary resentment on Alfred's face, who probably expected the man to say something in return.

When the truck was already on its way, Arthur let out a long, relieved sigh and let the calmness fill him, while Alfred tilted his head left and asked. "And now?"

"We pack in and start sorting."

"Right."

He wasn't ready for that... maybe this decision was made too fast and he should have just send the boy on his way... back then, Francis explained him a lot of things about having a bakery shop and now... he tried to do the same... but it was so easy for Francis, he was a fanatic of baking and serving people. For him, having this shop was the Eden which he shared with Arthur... and now, Arthur tried to introduce this world to a stranger...

. . .

Alfred was an intelligent man and he learned quickly. He could differentiate the types of flour in ten minutes and the seeds in twenty. He learned the orders on the shelves and for that, Arthur sketched him a small note, which he glued beside the cash register so the boy could help himself in cases of confusion. He tried to explain Alfred the way one treats two fresh baguettes and a milk-loaf, what it means to get one tommy and a milksop. By the opening hour, the American was almost ready to start his first day in the front line.

"Just be patient. They expect you to give them their essential material of food. If you touch one of these..." Now he pointed at the sweet, still warm scones. "Do it with respect. Your hands always have to wear gloves. Besides that, while you are here, your hands must be clean at all times, no matter what. I clean the cash register at least five times a day, sometimes up to ten."

Alfred gave him a slow nod that he understood every word he has heard.

"Here... let's start with the packs. I have costumers who come by every day and we agreed that if I make them packages, they leave me two more dollars."

"Wow, that's cool... you're doing this alone?"

Arthur's motions stopped for a second and he took a deep breath. "Yes."

The boy's expression told him that he was being amazed and this was alright. The Englishman collected the paper bags and started sorting the needed pieces of the ware before doing anything instead and the boy merely stood beside him, looking for something to do. The small space in the shop didn't show many opportunities for him, though Arthur could have said some tasks to him, he stayed in silence. Without paying attention he finished the bags and brought them behind the counter to lean them in a basket.

The atmosphere started to tense even though none of them had said a word which meant harm. Arthur continued his routine and Alfred followed him, but at one point, no one blamed him for asking.

"Can I help somehow?"

"Why are you here?"

"I want to help."

"Why?"

"Good question."

Arthur frowned and shook his head. He was lost in this case. Did someone send this guy? Why would someone want to work in a bakery shop? Waking up early, working till the evening... having so few days out, almost zero holidays if you are the owner...

"Do you see well?"

The question confused him even more so he looked towards the guy, who leaned against the doorway which leads in the storage. "What?"

"I mean... do you see through your eyebrows?"

If this question would have been asked around two years ago, Arthur would throw the entire counter at the man and chase him out from the shop. He would yell something rude and probably make him swear, not to come near the street ever again.

"I do. Could you sweep in front of the shop before we open?"

"Oh. Yea, sure."

Once Alfred was outside, Arthur let out a sigh and again, turned to check the boxes. All in all, it was his shop now and he had to fill the baskets with the needed stuff. Alfred wasn't trained for that, it was obvious. Maybe he didn't even know how to use the cash register machine or how to take requests for the afternoon. Soon, in fifteen minutes they will open and Arthur felt a bit excited about the day. Will he get along with Alfred...?

Besides, he never taught anyone about having a shop like this... he had to explain a lot of things, teach the routine and the small tricks to make life easier in that tiny space... oh really.

He called out to ask him get the mails from the postman, who was expected to come exactly at six, at the time when the shop opens. He didn't want to care about the bills and the mails from abroad; he knew that the usual costumers will make their way through the door, asking for their ready-made packs.

Just as predicted, he though, Mr. Johnson who worked three shifts in the factory... a couple of minutes later, Mr. Gembsby, Mr. Honda, Mr. Jamison, Mrs. Balati, Mr. Poloskai... the list could go on, and until the last package was handed, Arthur sat down behind the counter and ticked the day in the calendar. This time, no one asked for changes in the orders and this meant only, that the quality was good enough.

Alfred has been watching him the whole day. He was like a shadow or some kind of a police dog, always behind him with a couple of steps, always ready to climb up the stairs, the ladder or to handle him something from the higher shelves, so he didn't have to pull the chair. He cleaned the floor after the morning rush was over and filled the baskets without asking for it.

At noon he asked for ten minutes, and returned with a menu from the closest McDonalds, and although as Arthur had looked around last time, they were in a bakery shop, but well. According to the European Union laws, he was supposed to give the boy one bun or two, but they weren't in the European Union. They were in the United States, and since Arthur have never had employees before, he didn't know the rules concerning them.

During the silent afternoon hours Alfred was playing games on his cell-phone, while Arthur was knitting his gloves for the winter. He didn't say a word about that. When someone came in the shop, Alfred almost jumped up and wanted to serve the person, but seeing the unknown, strange person in Arthur's shop, most of the people were a bit intimidated by his enthusiasm. But it was alright... they asked for Arthur, and he kindly responded to their call from behind the counter.

The first day in the bakery shop was smooth and silent. Maybe this wasn't that unusual, Arthur thought when he flipped the _Open_ sign to _Closed_. He looked back on Alfred, who was packing out the boxes from the morning, wiped them with the old grey towel and handed them to him. The truck was on its way already.

"So...? How was it?"

Right... it would be nice to tell him his performance, and Arthur hummed. "Not bad."

"Thank you." He could hear in the boy's voice that he was smiling. He always did that... " Can you tell me some words... you know, to improve?"

Arthur slowly shook his head and entwined his fingers behind his back, before looking towards the American. This whole thing was getting suspicious and strange...

"Why do you want to work here?"

"Well... because I'm unemployed, and I need a workplace?"

Ah... so that was it. He really needed to employ this person, do the paperwork, pay the taxes after him and pay him money for helping out...? but after a year of struggling he was tired of doing all these things alone. It was nice to have Alfred to climb ladders. The view from beneath was not the worst. In fact, the income of the shop could bear one more person and accidentally at the moment he had an applicant for a support member.

"Alright... tomorrow bring your papers. We're going to do the licenes."

"Really?!" The American nearly shouted beside him, Arthur jumped in surprise and stared at the happy young man, whose eyes were looking back at him, his fists at his chests in excitement.

"Yes, but please stay calm." He said before clearing his throat and quickly stepped away from Alfred to pick up the same posture he had before. Noisy, immature American.

"Yes, yes, I'm sorry. I'm excited. Gosh... thank you. You're saving my life. Man, my girlfriend will be so proud."

Of course he had a girlfriend. He was sexy and intelligent after all... wait. Well, yes he was, and? These guys always have girlfriend. A cute one, with probably long blond hair, nice blue eyes, a cheerleader type. A guy like Alfred was always doing something crazy, something unusual that affects other people. Well... not someone like Arthur.

A/N: Hi there :3 First I would like to say thank you to everyone who reads this story. I hope you'll like it. Thank you for your lovely reviews, they helped me a lot in continuing. :3

Please tell me your opinions and suggestions about the story, and of course if you find something ungrammatical please do tell me! I don't have a beta. :3


	3. Chapter 3

Weeks passed in silence and cooperation. Alfred learnt Arthur's reactions, his body language and the different meanings of his sighs. He knew the perfect times when to stay silent, when to talk, when to stand up for a customer. His face began to be familiar to everyone and after one month, people started actually talking to him. They accepted the bags and the packs from him, and the truck driver man got used to his presence as well.

The autumn has started and Arthur felt the upcoming winter as he looked at the dying trees along the street. He barely left the shop, just for milk or meat but otherwise the people told him during their short babbling that the town is changing into the shades of yellow, brown and red. The avenues began to be dirty, full of leaves and mud, the urban area remained to be neat like in a fairy tale. As Alfred told him, the area with the blocks of flats is still as boring and ugly as it was, and Arthur accepted this. He accepted everything.

Though, as the weather got colder, the night seemed to be lonelier than before. The wind blew through the trees in the morning and Arthur was often awake, listening to the strange sounds it made. It could be compared to a strange howling from the outside. He wasn't afraid of ghosts... he wouldn't have been surprised to have one as a visitor.

Just as it always happened in autumn, his hands began to be cold, mostly his fingers but in this year, his whole palm decided to be frozen. Maybe it was the stress, Francis always said, and he kissed his head as if telling him, everything was fine. He continued his work with the gloves and as they began to have a shape, Alfred sat beside him and instead of playing, he was watching the progress of the Englishman. Maybe he learned to appreciate the silence or he was just fascinated by the fact that a man can knit as well.

One day, out of the blue, Alfred was late. Arthur checked his wristwatch around six times before making this statement. It was almost a quarter to six when he appeared and by then Arthur finished with the quality checking and the sorting. He was cleaning the shelves from the outside this time, and was opening the cassa when the door opened from the entrance and he heard Alfred's steps, making his way to the small dressing room. Arthur didn't have any idea, what sort of problem the man would have on one grumpy October morning so he remained silent. He knew that Alfred will talk.

As the hours passed and the morning rush ended, it was obvious that he will not do that.  
And after more than a year, Arthur felt worry, growing in his chest.

Something was happening, Alfred checked the time often and these times he hissed, he typed on his cellphone when he had break (he never asked for them before) and avoided looking at Arthur.

It was around two in the afternoon, when the Englishman offered him a cigarette, and the man accepted it. They stood outside of the shop, simply looking around in the outside world, and Arthur cleared his throat.

"I'm listening."

Alfred made a sound that could have been a grunt or a moan, Arthur couldn't decide it, and in the next minute the man sighed. "I'm fine."

"I assume you are not."

"You always say that too."

The shorter blond man simply hummed and blew the smoke out of his lungs before nodding. Indeed. His answer was always the same, and Alfred copied it.

"So?"

"Anything in particular. I just decided to show you, how you behave on a normal day, and since you asked me if I was alright, my acting skills got an A+."

"I'm never late in the mornings."

"Right, boss, that's my only mistake for today. I apologize, I had a little... well.." Alfred tilted his head right to find the right word, he was making faces on the top of that. "Quarrel... with my girl. We'll be fine, hopefully."

Of course... how could a woman be that idiot to break up with a man like Alfred..? He was the dream of all employers, he had a good taste of humour, he had nice topics to talk about, appreciated music and movies as well... even though, mostly the action movies, he knew the classics as well. He was an honest and reliable man who knew the quality of every small thing.

He copied his behaviour? This thought stuck in his mind. This is how he acts all day? Silent, being a bit nervous about the time, never saying out a normal sentence?! No!

"I'm not like that, you idiot." He snorted. Alfred chuckled and nodded a couple of times.

"Yes you are."

"I'm not!" Arthur turned towards his employee and almost started yelling _show some respect and don't make fun of me_, when the younger boy poked him with his elbow and smiled back in his angry, flushed face.

"Calm down, the truck is coming."

Indeed... he shot a glare at the American before nearly ordering him to pack on the truck alone, and he was watching his work, arms crossed, brows frowning in a resentful way; the truck driver didn't dare to say a word to him, just waved before departing. Alfred simply put his hand on Arthur's shoulder and when the short man's eyes widened in genuine shock, he calmed him with a simple pat. "I'm listening, bro."

. . .

This little game of his, Arthur was grumpy all evening after this. On the top of ridiculing him, Alfred simply patted his shoulder and just acted as if they were friends from their childhood. No one can pat Arthur Kirkland's shoulder without being a friend, at least! Infuriating, immature and rude American, without manners. The worst of its kind, without any doubt.

He hummed as he retired to bed and pulled the blankets over his slim body, which became a bit thinner in the past months... no one dared to ask why, they all knew it.

Alfred wasn't that bad. He has his bad days, he has small conflicts with his girlfriend but that's all... things will get better... at least he has company again. This is an improvement, right? After a year, he allowed another person's presence in the shop. This is a great step he has taken forward. Yes, Arthur... pat yourself on your shoulder, you had done a great job in the past months! You didn't even beat him when he said something ridiculously stupid.

. . .

The other interesting fact about Arthur was, that he always hated to drink tea which was already cold, that's why he never understood the existence of ice-tea. Once his tea was cold, his mood shifted into a way that Alfred had only one option; stay away from him, from a circle of two meters of Arthur Kirkland. These occasions happened mostly in the morning rush or in the afternoon rush, and Arthur simply took a sigh (which meant annoyance) when someone entered the shop after 5 pm, exactly when he was drinking his Earl Grey. Alfred quickly learnt to take his place in these times, and serve the customers; of course he was being watched in the entire time.

The way Alfred saw these occasions was of course different; he thought that this is one way of letting his everyday stress out, therefore he tried to help his boss to stay calm. He had no clue about Arthur's inner side or his instincts about tea-drinking. He liked to listen Arthur's soft humming when he was knitting or doing his embroidery behind the counter on his small three-legged chair, he liked to watch his boss counting the buns and packing the sweets on the shelves with his short figure, trying to reach the higher places. He liked to listen to his grumpy murmuring about rude or impatient costumers or about the simple fact that the weather is all humid again.

His favourite thing was when Arthur started cleaning the shop after closing. While he was washing the boxes and wiping the shelves, Arthur did the washing up in the storage, in the changing room and the corridor and right before closing the shop, the costumer's area. These times he was always humming quietly to a song Alfred couldn't recognize, but he definitely loved it. The short Englishman had a deep, still soft and kind voice and the way he peacefully sang it sometimes mumbling the lyrics, Alfred was merely standing in the doorway, listening and watching. He couldn't stop that... he could listen Arthur's singing all day.

As the year began to crawl towards the end of it and the costumer habits seemed to change, Arthur explained him the switches of the thermostat if he felt cold and he allowed him to wear jumper underneath the apron. In the beginning of December Alfred tried to ask for holiday at Christmas but even when Arthur let him go for four days, in the end he refused to accept his boss' generous offer. The way Arthur's eyes darkened for a moment and when his mood changed in general after that, Alfred felt hurt and a great amount of self-blaming grow inside of him. In that minute he stood silent for a couple of second and the thought passed through his mind...

"_Maybe I shouldn't leave him alone at all."_

With that, Arthur's life changed completely, starting on the snowy and windy December evening.

They were sorting the biscuits for Christmas packages when Arthur noticed it. It wasn't a big thing at first sight but his curiosity couldn't restrain itself. It was Friday, long after closing time and Alfred was still in the shop filling paper bags and tying bow on them neatly, just for the children. He liked this idea obviously because Arthur could see the smile on his face which appeared when Alfred completely forgot about himself and the entire world, and only he and his task existed in his mind. These times he had a sweet and peaceful smile on his face, his sky-blue eyes fixed on the tiny paper bag in front of him.

When he noticed Arthur's eyes on himself, he blushed and cleared his throat. "What is it?"

"Nothing." The blond man answered quietly before returning to his own small bag. He put in a cube of brownie and a biscuit with chocolate pieces on it. One thing still bothered him and the simple thought of asking Alfred about his private life somehow made him feel a bit... alone.

"Come on, Arthur. I know there is something."

"It's okay."

"Am I extraordinarily sexy today?"

Arthur felt his cheeks and his earlobes heat up in a second and he retorted with a grunt only.

"And your ego is in the sky again."

"Ah, so you think I'm sexy." Alfred grinned with that 'I-know-I'm-always-right-in-that' grin which drove Arthur mad all the time. Just why was someone so full of himself all the time?

"No, I was just thinking."

"You're like the sphinx but let me tell you I'm not good at riddles."

"Do you really want to know?" Arthur looked up and put his own bag into his lap and Alfred did the same, his eyes shining curiously. "I was wondering, just why aren't you at home in your living room with your girlfriend or with your parents? Why are you in a bakery shop with a guy like me, doing these bags and stuff... I bet you would have better things to do." And by that he meant to shut the topic and tied the ribbon on the pack quickly.

He didn't expect the answer he got... it shocked him.

"Why to go home, to act all nice and cute and just be the pretty-face boyfriend who sits at home and watches some romantic shit in the television?"

Arthur had to blink a couple of times to digest this... the way Alfred said it, it was full of withheld anger and venom and he snorted as well. There was a serious problem going in that relationship and Arthur sighed. Just from this sentence... Alfred wasn't satisfied with his girlfriend at all, he thought about himself just as a body to the girl and he was bored of the activities the chick wanted to do with him. He didn't want to fit that ideal. He wanted to be where he wanted and maybe that was all.

"I didn't mean it to be that harsh. I didn't want to hurt you." The young man apologized but it was obvious that he didn't mean any harm by telling his opinion.

"No, I understand."

"Hm. I bet you do."

He didn't believe him. Arthur looked in Alfred's eyes and from there he could see an exhausted man who was fed up with everything that waited for him as he stepped in the door of his home. He hated it, and he didn't believe Arthur's words at all.

"At least you have someone to return to."

Alfred looked up from his task and almost started to persuade Arthur's opinion about what is better, having someone or being alone when his eyes met the Englishman's. He couldn't form words anymore for minutes after it and even if Arthur continued his work, Alfred was almost frozen on his chair sitting paralyzed and unable to answer anything. He looked on the tiny bag in his digits and swallowed before clearing his throat. "I'm sorry."

"You didn't do anything wrong." Hummed the Englishman again. "Please, return to your task now."

"Okay, I'm sorry."

"Alfred, stop apologizing."

"I'm sorry..."

"Will you please..." Arthur sighed with the 'I-am-tired-and-you-are-annoying' sigh that warned Alfred to obey instead of talking. The two worked in a peaceful silence for an hour or so, when the American started nagging about his tired and aching fingers and the number of bags they have prepared when Arthur shot an impatient glance at him.

"Do you know how many children are out there who cannot afford these sweets? We give them free because everyone deserves sweets at Christmas."

"But we made around two hundred packs in one night, Arthur."

He didn't really think about anything as he blurted his answer out, just as it was formulated in his mind. "With Francis we made five hundred in a single night."

"Francis?" Alfred tilted his head left in curiosity. "Who is Francis?"

A/N: Thank you for your support and for your reviews :3 I hope you like the story so far. I'm curious about your opinions, please leave some reviews or notes for me. :V


	4. Chapter 4

Previously Arthur hadn't met such a persistent, still annoying mammoth like Alfred.

Whenever the man was bored he began to repair every tiny little thing in the shop what Arthur didn't even ask for. He repaired doorknobs, the sinks in the toilet and the changing room, changed the light bulbs everywhere and the batteries in the clocks, dusted the top of the furniture, tightened the screws at the doors and the boxes in the shopping area and the list could go on. In two months the shop was glowing in its old way, just as Francis imagined back then and it made Arthur's heart clench. He felt disappointed in himself even though he knew; he didn't have energy or time to do what Alfred did. The man was stronger, taller and more confident than him and he had a great talent in mechanics which Arthur lacked.

On the top of that, the boy's behaviour became infuriating after that evening with the packs... in the beginning Arthur didn't even know how to react on his actions.

Five days before Christmas when they were done with the packs for the children and sorted them into boxes, Arthur found a note on the shelf of the milk-loaves. The piece of paper which was almost the size of a certain tiny paper bag had writing on it; someone had put down a message on it with big but stylish handwriting. Arthur had to wipe the paper a few times before being able to read it. It said... '_Patience._'

Patience... he murmured the word under his nose a few times before looking out of the windows. It was snowing again... tiny adorable drops of frozen water, the element which was essential for all creatures of the world. Now the streets were covered in that soft crystallized substance; it rustled under the heavy steps of the crowd, in the park it gave shelter for the small animals, on the roof it helped to keep the warmth inside... just like on his roof as well. Arthur let himself smile for a couple of seconds as he thought about the snow, covering the roof above the shop where he practically lived his life. The warmth... which the idiot American let out because he left the freaking door open!

"Alfred!" He nearly yelled as he realized it, the freezing cold was pouring into the tiny space of the shop and the blond wagtail-brained lad must be somewhere in the storage and he left the front door open! Who will pay the bills if not Arthur Kirkland?!

"Yes, chief?" The man's voice came from the behind of the shop.

"Do not 'chief' me you idiot, come here!"

"Arthur I am almost done here, could you..."

The Englishman grunted and shut the door as soon he reached there and turned around to face the surprised and absolutely innocent man who was still wiping his hands with the wet paper towel. "Yes, Arthur?"

"Did you leave that door open?"

"No, I was in the storage, filling the boxes in the front from the boxes in the back. I thought it would be a good idea so maybe I wouldn't have to climb up every time I... " Alfred's voice softened as he realized his employer's eyes growing wide open and he even heard his breath sucked in. "what is it?"

Arthur didn't answer for a couple of seconds. He closed his mouth first, then avoiding Alfred's eyes he stepped beside the American to walk behind the counter and sit down on his little chair... There, even if he knew that the blond man was following and now watching him anxiously, he wiped the stray mops of hair out of his forehead. This was just a coincidence... this was just a simple coincidence of absolutely simple logic... but originally it was Francis' idea to do, to make Arthur's life easier and he... never managed to actually make it happen... while now Alfred making Francis' idea true...

"Did I... did I do something wrong? I pack them back in a second..."

"No.. " Arthur felt his throat tighten and he swallowed to gain back the strength in his voice, just before Alfred was about to run and fix what he had done. "No, it's fine. That was a... good idea Alfred, well done."

"Well obviously it wasn't if you..."

"Don't care about me that much, please. I'm fine." Alfred stepped back and leaned to the wall so he could directly face Arthur and as a result he fixed his eyes on the weak, tired man who was just sitting and struggled to pull himself together again. After some time he wiped his eyes with his sleeve and bit the inner side of his cheeks when he noticed the other's gaze on him."Why do you care that much about me? Who am I to you?"

"You are my friend." Informed him the American almost cheerfully but Arthur just covered his eyes with his fingers.

"Oh dear..."

"You don't know how thankful I am to you, Arthur."

"Maybe it's better that I don't know." Alfred's eyes widened in bewilderment.

"What?"

In that second the door opened and a cheerful couple entered with a basket of fresh vegetables and some bags of meat in their hands. They were obviously from a grocery store and now the man just stayed at the door and let his girlfriend or wife, talk to Arthur about her needs.

The Englishman stood up and walked to the shelf of white breads to pick one just as if nothing has happened in the past few minutes. He passed beside Alfred, not even looking at the man's face and as the American was silently observing his fellow's actions he finally reached a conclusion. Arthur didn't want to get involved in human relationships... probably.

Why would someone do that, asked himself the young man? He hesitated a bit before he came up with a couple of solutions but in the end as he looked at Arthur's emotionless figure he simply nodded. No wonder why he felt a kind of admiration towards the lonely, abandoned man with a certain urge to be around him. He was an outsider.

Not just the genuine alienation which was a part of him and one could see it from the very first glance but there was something else that didn't let Alfred's thought rest. Arthur was silent most of the times but it was obvious, Alfred felt it inside of his heart that this wasn't the man's normal behaviour. Disillusionment, deep, grievous pain and hopelessness radiated from his mere presence.

It wasn't that Alfred felt a kind of affection, a propensity towards his boss, no... he liked being around him he liked watching him existing, doing his little routine in this tiny space. His little keychain with the British flag, his little teacup with Tudor roses, his knitted scarf and now the gloves... this man was alone. Purely. Alone.

And when someone tried to get near to him... he pushed the person away consciously, as if protecting himself from a huge evil enemy...

Alfred sighed and walked back to the storage to finish sorting the boxes. He couldn't stop his mind from now, it always ran back to Arthur and questioned a lot of things he wasn't able to answer alone on the contrary he knew it well that Arthur wouldn't tell him anything.

There was nothing that could have stopped Alfred Jones from starting his investigation.

. . .

After closing at six and saying goodbye, Alfred always turned left on the corner of the street, Arthur remembered that. Two days before Christmas he turned right and the Englishman didn't understand it but he thought it's not his business to find reason for that. He didn't know that his employee went to the library to find the woman who suggested accepting Alfred as help.

In the almost empty building Alfred sat down to a computer and typed Arthur's name in the local newspaper's archive search engine. After a couple of second the result was in front of him and he leant back in his chair, hand covering his mouth and his eyes were wide open from pure shock and rue. He wiped his eyes after regaining his composure and clicked with his tongue.

This article explained everything... and it was terrifying to think about Arthur suffering from the same pain and loss that he has to cope with every single day. It was... unbearable. How did he manage to continue his life in the same shop on the same place? How did he manage to stand up and not escape to self-pity and depression? Even if he lives the same way every single day... he was tormented with his memories and however he acted as if he was alright...

"_I'm fine."_

He always said that... things are _fine_, he was _fine_, the weather is _fine, _his evening was _fine._

Alfred was still sitting in the same chair, gazing out from his skull until the security guard called his attention on the time. The library was closing and he had to go home. He bit his lower lip in hesitation as he was standing outside of the modern, white building and he pulled the zip up on his jacket.

Slowly, still among puzzled and directionless thoughts Alfred began to walk his way home in the snow, not paying attention on the traffic or the other citizens of the small town. His mind was around Arthur and his admiration just grew as he approached the block of flats he currently lived in... not for a long, though...

Arthur. The name sat on his mind on the entire way home... He didn't want to tell him anything about Francis' identity three days ago and now Alfred understood it why. Obviously the man was still mournful and drained because of his grief and he just... he just asked about it without even knowing anything about Arthur... he was rude... tactless, which is worse.

When he arrived home, his girlfriend probably didn't notice him. She was watching television and Alfred didn't care to say hello. The man just walked to their bedroom and switched his laptop on to open his favourite forum about games and movies. The time didn't seem to pass until he shook his head and closed the application and decided to make dinner for himself.

Clearly, having a girlfriend one would think they'll make you dinner if you work from almost dawn till the evening every day... this girl couldn't even wash Alfred's clothes anymore so the man learnt to do it himself... but this wasn't the point of his speculation... once he heard someone in the university say about basic human reaction. The lecture was about literature and Alfred didn't understand why would a fire-fighter need literature ever in his life, still he was listening as far as he could stay awake.

The teacher was an old woman with glasses and she had wrinkles around her mouth and her eyes but again this wasn't the point... there was one single sentence which echoed in Alfred's mind without a second of pause since he stepped out of the library...

"_If someone tells you mindlessly, hastily that they are fine... they are in serious trouble and they need immediate help."_

He couldn't leave Arthur alone. Whatever that man thought... he was caring and loving inside, Alfred felt it from the way he treated him. The way he looked towards him... because Arthur rarely looked in anyone's eyes. Whenever he touched his arm or gave him his cup of tea which Alfred didn't even ask for... those tiny gestures when he didn't scold him (as a boss should have) but instead gave him mumbled or silent instructions for the future...

His new friend was deep down in a vortex, and he was the only one nearby who could do something to change this. Looking back on the situations maybe this statement wasn't an exaggeration.

Alfred sighed and bit his lip again before he looked up towards the living room but this time in confidence and determination.

"Sandra! I gotta talk to you, chick."

"Alfred for God's sake I'm watching Super Girls, can't you wait—"

"I can't. Come here now."

"What, you are fired again?"

... ... ... ... ...

A/N: Thank you for reading. Your reviews were really lovely, and I would like to say thank you for each and every review and message you left me. :3 I hope you like the story and where it goes, though I tell you one thing, this is not going to be an Alfred-hero, Arthur-damsel-in-distress story (and a lot of you have already felt this, yes you were right :D).

If you see something ungrammatical, or something not-English-like, please do tell me about it, I'll correct it as soon as possible. :3

Reviews are welcomed and appreciated. :3


	5. Chapter 5

"Thank you Mr. Kirkland… you are a very, very good man!"  
"Thank you Mr. Kirkland I can't tell you how grateful I am..."  
"Oh my... sir, you bring light into my whole week..."  
"Say 'thank you', Sammy..."

Alfred smiled from the doorway of the corridor as he was watching his friend giving the presents they made together. The children were excited and grateful as they held the small paper bags in their small hands and some of them could not wait until they left the shop, they opened the bags to take a biscuit or a piece of brownie in their mouths. In one single day Arthur gave one hundred and twenty bags to his customers, let them be children, old women, pregnant ladies or busy and exhausted businessmen. Of course he spared these from impatient or grumpy people, the way Alfred saw it, one had to be worthy to gain one bag of sweets.

The scene was heart-warming and as the day went they made a great income... well it was the last day before Christmas. Family meetings, parties, some took days off from their work to relax a couple of days... but Arthur didn't. He was in his shop every day, waiting for the truck at five in the morning, and closing the door at half past six. He never went on holiday or never took a day off. It seemed that as long as the apocalypse doesn't knock on his door, Arthur will open and serve fresh buns.

Alfred shook his head in disbelief and he turned around to go in the small room where Arthur kept his personal things, and he poured some hot water in the man's teacup. After all, he deserved some beverage... even if Alfred had no idea how to make that English tea; he managed to figure it out by the colour of liquid in the cup. The challenge truly began when in the late afternoon he stepped beside Arthur and handed him the cup, which was hopefully still warm enough for the blonde to be able to drink it.

The Englishman didn't expect this at all. He wasn't ready for that and in that moment Alfred thought his friend will faint or at least start to cry as he saw the small porcelain cup in the young man's fingers. For the split of the second he saw pain and a tremendous amount of remembering rush through behind the emerald eyes until they closed, and the man let out a sorrowful sigh. "Thank you."

He didn't accept the cup though... he was just staring at it while simply standing in front of him now his eyes closed, as if that cup was his wounded and miserable life, and it was in the middle of Alfred's palm, now... last time... the very last time when someone made him a warm cup of tea after a hard day... it was Francis.

The shorter man felt tears climb to his eyes and he tried to take a calm breath but the memories with all their power rebelled against his will and before he could realize what he did, he wiped his eyes and covered his face with his left hand's digits. His face burned from the shame, and Alfred just stood there for maybe two or three seconds before noticing his boss' mental breakdown. The young man sucked in his breath, immediately put the cup down beside the cash register and lead him to his chair behind the counter.

Arthur didn't recognize what happened in the following moment as Alfred politely sent out the customers and closed the door of the shop before returning to him. By then he was already in tears, sobbing quietly to himself and calling his own pathetic self a weak and helpless being. He couldn't just let this happen but all the things Alfred did for him, it was simply too much. For one and a half year... no one was this caring and kind to him, he gave up on the whole possibility of feeling it again... and it was heart breaking to think about that.

His friend now kneeled in front of him, shaken and defensive still baffled, he didn't know what to do... he had a weak attempt to caress Arthur's shoulder but in the end he pulled his hand back into his lap and bowed his head down in hopelessness. "I'm sorry... Arthur..."

This was even more infuriating and it tore the man's heart apart... just why would, why did he think that..."It's not your fault, for God's sake, Alfred, stop apologizing for my worthlessness!"

"You are not worthless, Arthur."

"Oh please, stop." The man in the dark-blue knitted vest shook his head and slowly wiped his eyes. "I know what you think about me. I know what you _all _think about me... that I'm just pathetic for not being able to move on and I'm still doing this shop and all even though there is no point of it because I'm weak and I'm not even trained for that..."

"What? No!" Protested the younger man with a frown on his face.

"Spare the words, please..." The blonde hid his face from the other man again and sighed, still his heart couldn't let him calm down. "I just... I'm trying to hold onto this... tiny... thing that is still him.."

Alfred let the air out of his lungs and bent his head down to nod... this time he patted Arthur's shoulder and caressed him as if trying to say, things will get better. "I... I try to help you. I really would like to, but you don't let me."

"You... you keep doing things which always... remind me of him... and I just... I don't know what to..." Alfred took out a tissue from his jeans to wipe the tears of his friend before looking in his eyes again... and Arthur looked back at him. "Why are you... like that...?"

"I wish I would not... hurt you... with my being." From the pure sky-blue eyes all he could see was desperation and the will to help and there... the light of perplexity and caring shone through. Arthur slowly shook his head and sniffed but as the thoughts ran through his mind, his lips were trembling again.

"It's not you, it's... it's just that he is gone, and he will never come back, and he will never be here and never... he is there and not with me and now it's Christmas again... and he is nowhere..." It was over, he couldn't hold back longer but cry loud, his voice along with his words trembling. "I miss him so much, I can't believe, I still can't believe it... he can't be but I saw him... I was there... and now he is not here..."

For at least ten minutes Alfred bent forward and hugged the man, stroking his back and the back of his neck, listening to his defeated blubbering and weeping that didn't seem to stop for long. Arthur was snivelling on him helplessly as if nothing in the world would stop his pain which poured from the very root of his heart. "I can't go on like this, I feel empty but I want to feel again but I can't because this is here and I cannot move... I'm paralyzed in my own trap because all I see everywhere reminds me of him but if I would go away I would miss all these..."

"Shh... shh... it's fine. I'm here, you see." Alfred tried to comfort him by taking his chin in the palm of his hands and caress his face with his thumb in vain.

"You know that... in December all I can think of is that he is... lying in a box... all cold... and in the dark... and he always loved blankets..."

"Oh my God..." Alfred tightened his hold on the man and as the minutes passed he took his friend gently into his lap, pulling his legs beside his and he hugged his back as close as he could while Arthur was sobbing and lamenting on his shoulder, chewing on his index finger for some minutes, then hugged the neck of the American and closed his eyes.

Either of them thought about the time being as they were sitting on the floor, Arthur struggling with his pain and loss while Alfred silently was gazing out from his mind and caressing the man on his lap, his heart slowly breaking for being unable to do a single thing for his friend. He knew that if he started to cry Arthur would start it over again too... he had to stay strong with the fact that he was simply unable to imagine the amount of distress the other man had to bear every day. "You will move on... you will see..."

So there they were... and unconsciously Alfred let his chin rest in the crook of Arthur's neck and he gave a small peck on his skin, just with the touch of his lips. His mind was racing among the possible ideas to help, but none of them were really useful... in the end all he realized was that he couldn't let this go on anymore.

"Patience, Arthur... Patience."

. . .

In the end he left the man on the floor till he warmed up the tea again and gave it to Arthur to drink it. The Englishman grimaced at that and claimed that the tea which is re-heated is not the same as the original but because of the parental and almost teacher-like glare of Alfred, he gave in. He was still sitting behind the counter and on the floor with red, swollen eyes from crying, his voice still trembling. "I don't know what to say now."

"You don't have to say anything." Smiled the other, peacefully leaning his back to the counter and looking towards the blond who just nodded at that, sipping from his cup. After a couple of seconds Alfred put his left elbow on his knee and found a comfortable sitting position for himself.

"I think... it's time to tell you a... couple of things."

"Look, it's alright if you do this another time."

"No... I will be fine from now... I hope." Saying that Alfred could see his uncertainty although Arthur started to talk indeed and this relaxed the other man. The taller man let his head fall back and lean to the wooden door of the counter's back before reaching out to take Arthur's right hand into his. As the owner of the small bakery shop slowly pulled himself together and started telling his story about love which first made him drift away from his homeland then from his original work (he was educated to be a critic, and then to be an accountant).

"Francis was everything to me, for almost seven years. We got together when I was eighteen and... we moved here from France. It was his dream to have a bakery but since either of us had the qualifications to have it, we decided to open a shop instead. The people accepted us, and we were living peacefully... and you know what happened." He bit his upper lip to prevent his weakness overwhelm him again, and this time he was the one whose hold tightened around Alfred's fingers, being grateful for his simple presence beside him. "Thank you."

"It's alright."

"It's... not that easy to talk about that."

"I'm sure... would you like to take a walk? Maybe some fresh air would do some good."

Arthur seemed to be a bit troubled by the thought of leaving the shop. He looked around in worry as if he was asking the furniture to let him go for a bit before he swallowed and finally nodded, though as the seconds passed and he didn't move at all from his posture, Alfred took the initiative. After carefully pulling himself up he offered his hand to the smaller blond who mindlessly accepted his help however he was still hesitant about going out. This could be seen on his unsure reactions, caressing his apron down to seem neat while his eyes were fixed on the window and what it had outside. Alfred held back his quiet chuckle, instead he cleared his throat and stepped behind Arthur to untie his apron. "Come on, you'll like it."

"I know, it's just..." The blond didn't look up on him again which was a bad omen already, so the taller one walked back to the changing rooms for their jackets, then handed the Englishman the one which belonged to him. "I... I wasn't really walking for... maybe more than a year."

"I expected something like this. Come on, let's go now. The weather is not that freezing, the sun is still up so we won't turn into snowmen, you'll see."

A couple of minutes later, both of them dressed up like two fat Eskimos out in the wilderness... though it was just the winter in the city, Alfred lead the Englishman down the way towards the park where hopefully they could buy some hot chocolate and sit on a bench. Somehow the silence of Arthur wasn't that sceptical or tense, he was merely walking beside his friend, both of his hands in his knitted gloves and his face almost covered in the scarf. If he wasn't a grown up man, Alfred would have called the other man 'cute', and not the sick pink rainbow-pony kind of cute, but the kitten one loves to hold tight and comfort because it was cold outside and the kitten didn't like it.

So far so good.

Arthur was treading beside him, his eyes fixed on the ground and on the footsteps of other people who walked on the same path before. Since it was Christmas, a lot of people were in the park and though Alfred got used to being among strangers on the street, Arthur seemed to be intimidated by the fact that absolutely random people waved or welcomed him whom he couldn't recognize, now out from the shop's atmosphere. He stumbled his way closer to Alfred and bumped into him a couple of times before blushing, when he decided to regain some confidence to walk properly.

"A lot of people are here, Alfred..." He murmured under his nose, almost wishing that the American didn't hear him.

"I know. Let's walk to that Starbucks, I'll buy you a cup of hot chocolate, fine?"

"But I'll catch co—"

"No you won't! Arthur, don't be so uptight all the time, you deserve it. Remember, it's Christmas after all."

The uplifted mood of the taller blond seemed to work since Arthur caught up to his rhythm and continued to trot beside him up to the building, where Alfred ordered for both of them. It wasn't half minute later that both of them were standing under the trees beside the playground, sipping their drinks quietly. Alfred felt relieved and glad at the same time as he looked at the... well... a bit awkward but still sweet sight of his boss. The grumpy man was now blowing air in the cup, trying to cool the drink just a little bit but no avail, so he got even more lost than he was before.

"I'm just..."

"It's fine Arthur."

"But it's all hot and I cannot drink it."

"Me either."

"Hmpf."

Alfred shook his head slowly again, almost like saying, '_dear God, I'll take him home with myself'_.

"I don't remember when I drank my last hot chocolate and I'm a bit confused." Murmured the grumpy Englishman.

Oh... the taller blonde just shrugged and took a short sip from his own cup. "Well if it doesn't burn your tongue, you can drink it."

"Obviously."

Of course, obviously, Alfred chuckled at this proud and almost resentful statement from his friend. He just couldn't give up his pride, couldn't he? After all he succeeded in pulling him out from the cave and now they were drinking hot chocolate on the corner of the park, talking about unnecessary, easy things. That's not a bad start.

"Maybe we should walk more. Let's go that way." He indicated and of course started striding down the pavement until he realized that Arthur was almost trotting beside him, so he had to slow down his steps and synchronize it with the shorter blonde's. Supposedly they were walking in a circle around the park now so when they arrive back to the starting point he can 'escort' Arthur home and he could take the bus to go home. Until then... "So, what do you like to do? I guess we haven't really talked about average stuff yet."

"Huh? Yes... well.." As predicted, the man couldn't find his words for a couple of second, and then he shrugged. "I guess, I like... knitting... embroidering... reading..." Now he tilted his head right as he collected his thoughts. "I like travelling... watching movies... average stuff."

"Go on, I'm listening." Smiled the blue-eyed man in an encouraging way and Arthur's cheeks reddened.

"Well.. I like.. err... I liked going to galleries... watching pictures of painters..."

"I know."

"I liked... walking... I think I liked cats too."

"I always wanted a cat..." Sighed Alfred resignedly and surprisingly this time Arthur was to tell him the opposite.

"Then why don't you have one?"

"Because my girlfriend likes dogs... and our landlord doesn't allow us to have mammals. We have two goldfish though."

"Wow..." Yea, Alfred wasn't amused either. "Goldfish."

"I know... Thrilling animals aren't they."

"Indeed. The tricks they can learn... phew!"

Alfred chuckled at the high-pitched appreciative voice that Arthur made... he had his humour he just had to pull it out from the shell like everything else.

"I liked baking and cooking too." The shorter blond added.

"Oh.. and were you good at that?" He looked at his friend just from a casual habit but as he saw Arthur's face, his eyes widened in surprise which he had to hide as quickly as he could, not to scare the other person... he could swear that what he saw was a tiny but still alive, content smile on the man's lips and his eyes weren't wandering absent-mindedly on the ground like before. He was looking in front of himself, holding the warm cup in his right hand, and he was smiling.

This was the first time, that he saw Arthur smiling like that.

"Naah, I am horrible at cooking... Francis banished me from the kitchen, actually. "

"And... was that reasonable?"

"Oh yea, definitely! I nearly set fire on the kitchen." Now he was chuckling from the memories Alfred wished to see as well, so bad. He really wanted to see this short blond man standing beside pots and stirring or cutting vegetables on the table. It felt so domestic, so near... "Can you cook?"

"Well, I can make a few things and I like experimenting. My favourite is still lasagne or hamburger with French fries."

"Ah, you mean the chips."

"Umm... yes." Alfred felt his cheeks heat up in a second... hopefully he didn't say anything wrong but judging from the way Arthur answered he wasn't so sure.

There had been some silent minutes as they continued their tour around the park, sometimes looking up because of the children who were in the playground, which lay at the feet of the small hill in the middle. The small area was surrounded by wooden fence which imitated the image of a sheepfold in which the children were the little innocent and sacred creatures. Alfred liked this idea but when he heard Arthur grunt and murmur something again, he pushed a little on the man's elbow.

"What is it, now...?"

"Nothing. I'm just a bit cold."

"After all, it's winter. Drink your hot chocolate."

"It's cold."

Alfred smiled and stopped to change the bottles in their hands, much to Arthur's protest. "Drink mine instead. You shouldn't have removed the cap of it." The man was now humming, keeping his eyes on the new cup which still had the hot liquid in it and blinked a couple of times. In his green eyes the other man could see mild hesitation and shyness which came from the fact that now he held Alfred's cup in his gloved hands. The American tilted his head and shook it affectionately before starting to walk again, knowing that Arthur will follow him. He saw the man's cheeks blushing but maybe it was just the chill of the air.

"Thank you." His low whisper was barely audible as the shorter spoke through the scarf.

"Come on... it's from our income."

"But now that one is cold."

"It's fine, don't worry."

"I'm not worrying."

"Most definitely."

"Are you making fun of me?"

"Not at all."

On their way back, Arthur was talking on the whole time. He was telling stories about England, the fairies which existed not just in Ireland but in Wales too and he himself had stated that he had seen fairies although one was a bit scary. Alfred couldn't hold back his smile at the whole time but he swallowed often not to laugh. The fairies in the garden, the tiny creatures which Arthur claimed he still could see sometimes... he didn't know what to say, especially when Arthur got a bit sad when he thought about the cold winter weather again.

"They are freezing and in this place they cannot hide easily." He said.

There was something in this person which couldn't let Alfred's attention be drawn to anything else. He acted and talked as if he didn't belong to the reality, but when they were in the shop he didn't say a single word about these things. His world in his imagination was vast and intangible for everybody else.

As Arthur found himself standing in front of the door of his flat, which lead up on the stairs above the shop, he frowned. "I'm sorry for talking too much."

"No, I liked listening to you. Really. I think it helps you too."

"It must be boring to hear about bedside tales... but if I would say again that they exist, you would laugh."

"I'm not laughing at you."

Arthur just stood there in silence and he buried his chin into his scarf as he looked down on the ground again. The air was tensing up again but suddenly Alfred chuckled and patted the shorter man's shoulder. "It's alright, Arthur. What are you doing tomorrow? It's Christmas after all."

"You have a day off, then."

"What? You'll open?"

The Englishman shrugged and cleared his throat. "Why not?"

"You..." Alfred frowned at that... didn't Arthur have anyone to visit him? Didn't he have family...? "And... your parents?"

"Parents...? They are in Wales and it's better if they stay there... my brothers too."

"You must have some friends to visit..."

"I can't visit you, obviously. You have a girlfriend and I'm sure your parents are different than mine... and... I'm your boss. It just wouldn't be appropriate."

The taller man couldn't say anything for a couple of seconds, the words dried on his throat. He was simply looking at his friend who suddenly seemed to be older with at least five years. He was a tired, sorrowful and a man in grief again, turning back into the same person he was an hour ago... and Alfred couldn't let this happen. Even if this man was his boss, his employer. Before he could have said a word, Arthur spoke softly, quietly again into his scarf, not looking up on him anymore.

"Please don't invite me. I'll be fine. After all, I already had a Christmas alone."

Again... he said he will be _fine_. But by this time Alfred knew that this meant only one thing.

_Arthur couldn't bear it anymore. _

A/N: Thank you for reading... at this chapter I must say I'm extremely curious about your suggestions and opinions, because this is one of the deepest points of the story. For sure at first sight it seems a bit too much, but after all, it was Christmas...

I must admit that I am a bit late with this update. The thing is that I'm afraid to post anything in English because I don't have a beta and as this person:

usukreviews. / post/35338720544 /recipe-for-life

suggested, I really must... get one. Though there are some points where I don't agree her (my answer is down there you can click and read it if you want), I'm discouraged a LOT. I can't express how much I lost my motivation and my... courage to post anything in English. :S

I do apologize for my weakness, and this is why I always do state, that I don't have beta, and English is my second language. Please tell me where I am ungrammatical or where I write not-English-like structures... V.V

Hugs :3


	6. Chapter 6

It was before Christmas Eve. After their long walk, Alfred returned back to his flat and found himself unable to sleep whereas before he would have been wide awake due to his childish anticipation for presents the next morning, this night he merely laid on the bed, staring at the ceiling. Since Arthur and he had parted ways for the day, all he could think of was Arthur's loneliness in the tiny flat above the shop and how Arthur's mood switched from kindness to resigned sorrow. His mind whirled with guilt. He shouldn't have left him there, alone... especially not on Christmas.

He couldn't force Arthur to do anything against his will. Well, okay, he could, but that wouldn't fair. He had to respect the man's wishes. Alfred figured that if he forced Arthur to be among strangers, the poor man would only become even more frustrated and withdrawn, perhaps he wouldn't accompany him anymore. For now and maybe for one more year, all Arthur needed was a stable routine and a safe haven for him to find emotional peace and for his thoughts to be drawn away from solitude.

Alfred sighed as he turned his head to look out on the window, aimlessly gazing before focusing his attention on the falling snowflakes outside. He could count each little snowflake, one by one. Just like counting sheep, Alfred tried to mesmerize his mind to sleep but his inner self protested against his efforts with heavy and troubling thoughts.

By the 238th snowflake Alfred was very drowsy indeed, but his thoughts wouldn't let him sleep. Again and again he heard Arthur's voice in his head, saying those sentences which made Alfred's heart sink. The foolish man was going to open the shop on Christmas. Arthur wasn't going to give himself the day off.

And as far as Alfred knew, Arthur didn't have any friends. At least, he certainly didn't have any that lived nearby which meant that he didn't have anyone to celebrate Christmas with.

Now that he thought about it, Arthur didn't forbid him from saying hello in the morning, did he?

Of course, Sandra would be really upset if Alfred disappeared on the day of Christmas to be with his boss, but it's not like Sandra knew Arthur. They hadn't met at all. Considering her evasive behaviour and her temperament nowadays towards everything that led to Alfred, he wasn't even sure if he wanted to introduce his "girlfriend" to Arthur. Between their arguments and her suspiciously frustrated attitude, it became harder and harder for Alfred to think of Sandra as even a friend.

Somehow these made the American sigh and shake his head in a resigned way, bowing his head. Considering the way they celebrated Christmas before and looking at the feelings they had now, the two cannot be compared. Even one year ago Alfred felt being involved and interested in making Sandra feel precious and loved, took her to a nearby mountain for days on his own money and visited her family even though they didn't really like him. He took the effort to order her special gifts from Japan and from Norway too, let himself dragged through Christmas-shopping days... and now they were in separate rooms from the simple fact that if they were in one, there were useless and exhausting fights.

The tall, dark-blond haired man sat up in his bed and tossed the blankets off before he put on his glasses.

Arthur didn't forbid him to give him presents, did he? No, he definitely did not.

. . .

Arthur yawned and turned his head on the right to check the time again. Half past six. Only half an hour had passed since he opened. Though he was exhausted, he was fairly content, sitting on his chair and doing embroidery in perfect solitude. No noisy Americans, no costumers, just the warm shop and his embroidery. Since it was Christmas Day, he assumed that the shop would be mostly empty, except for the poor sods who might have forgotten to purchase their bakery ware the day before. This nation was so much blessed with their Christmas-fever, they forgot about a lot of other things when it came to December.

He was humming a calming song as he focused on his needlework. Although he was completely at peace, he stopped his embroidery abruptly when he remembered that the song he was humming was also the same song that he used to hum as Francis was baking at home. Back then, Arthur would grumble about how irritating Francis and his long activity was, during which he wasn't spending the time with Arthur, but doing these little cakes and delicious biscuits...

Arthur put his needlework aside. Recalling some children's song that reminded him of Francis, and this was only going to make him miserable. Although it seemed futile, he still hoped someone might come and distract him from his thoughts. But it was Christmas, and most people would be spending time with their friends and families. Although he had spent last Christmas alone as well, it still hurt to think that he'd be by himself again with only his memories of his late fiancée.

He hadn't been paying any attention to the shop until the door opened and the sound of heavy boots broke the silence. He looked up from behind the counter. "Hello. How may I help - Alfred?"

The tall man, wearing his brown bomber jacket and white shirt as usual, but also wore black jeans and boots which was strange, because Alfred seemed determined to wear only faded blue jeans and Converse even in the dead of winter. Yet what confused Arthur even more than his employee's new attire was the fact that the boy was present in the shop.

"Morning, Arthur!" he said with a cheeky grin. "How are you today?"

"Fine. You do remember that I told you not to come to work today? Or is your brain incapable of recalling basic information from the day before?"

Alfred didn't react at all Arthur's comment. "I think this day is special, Arthur." He raised his booted leg slowly to step to a shelf which had fresh bread on it, turning away from the puzzled Englishman. What was this kid doing? Was this an idea he got from some film he watched? He couldn't imagine a single reason why Alfred was at the shop and being so ridiculously dramatic.

"How so?"

"Because it's not just Christmas, Arthur."

"Really."

"Really. Today's the day where we will go to places in town! Just tell me where you want to go and I'll take you there."

"All right, then. I want to stay here."

"I can't hear your mumbling." Alfred feigned a yawn and walked behind the counters to stand face-to-face with him. Like the arrogant brat he is, the American shook his head affectionately before simply turning down his friend. "I won't hear any of this, I'll get your coat."

"Do you not understand that I cannot leave because of the shop?"

"Well, then you'll close."

"I cannot close! It's illegal!"

"Relax! Since when has it been illegal to close a shop on Christmas? If you celebrate the holiday, you're within your rights to close the shop."

"I've never been particularly observant, Alfred." Did Arthur look like he was celebrating?

"Cool. Me neither. Come on! We have a lot of stuff to do!"

Alfred didn't care what Sandra did in those hours which he spent with Arthur that day, and even now he doesn't even think about that. Taking the man on a tour around the city was a great idea and it helped to encourage the blond a lot... their first station was the library and for some reason, Alfred was surprised that it was closed for the holidays. Arthur rolled his eyes. "A library? This is an exciting adventure for you?" he asked, doubt quite obvious in his voice.

"Yeah, they usually have tons of events going on," Alfred said as his shocked expression turned into glum. "Books, classes, meetings, I thought it would be perfect for you. Why is it closed?"

"It's Christmas, Alfred." Arthur nuzzled his nose in his warm, knitted scarf as the cold began to crawl into his coat.

"What? Like atheist librarians don't exist?"

Arthur covered his face in dismay. "I'm not going to get into an argument with you over this."

The next stop of their 'adventure' was at a Stop & Shop. Alfred insisted on buying a new clock for the bakery and a new set of gloves for himself because Arthur's hands were a size smaller than his. They bought new towels to clean and a mug for Alfred as well. After all, he was officially an employee in the bakery as Arthur had stated. In fact, he was the only other employee in the bakery.

As they stood in the queue, Arthur muttered, "I had to close the bakery for this nonsense? I can do these chores on my own time, you know."

"But it's Christmas!" Alfred replied. "And this supermarket is in the spirit of Christmas. All the cashiers are dressed as elves!"

"Trust me. Those cashiers wish they were elsewhere. No one wants to work on Christmas, let alone wear those tacky costumes."

"But you -"

"Be quiet. I had my reasons. You decided to waltz into the shop this morning and ruin every one of my plans."

"It'll be for the better. You'll see. There's a cool place I want to show you after we're done here."

"If it's a convenience store, I'm going home."

'_Really now...'_ Arthur thought as he looked up on the ornamented ceiling... wouldn't it be better to sit in the warm and cosy shop without any disturbing idiots...?

On the way back to the city they sat in the back of the bus and Alfred was watching Arthur on the entire road and the Englishman had been sitting without noticing it. The air outside was chilly which made the tip of Arthur's node red and this Alfred secretly found lovely.

They have been at the main square, watching the decorated lamps and houses, the church at the corner with the lights which Arthur liked really much. He liked the snow crunching underneath his feet and he would have liked to throw a snowball at Alfred if they weren't in the centre of the town. People might talk after a scene like that.

The last place in Alfred's plan was the best he could imagine. If the library was one thing that Arthur would have liked, this one would be his favourite and his idea had proved him without doubt. If he would have the power and the money he would have bought the whole place just for Arthur, wrap it in red with a ribbon on top and give it to him...

The tea house which could be found in the centre was a peaceful, almost isolated place in its kind.

They went to a lovely coffee and tea house on Douglas Avenue. It was a peaceful, almost isolated place. From the outside it seemed to be an ordinary old house from the 70's covered in plants but inside a whole different world was waiting for everyone who loved the arts. Writers, actors, painters and critics visited it often because beside the service of providing fresh tea and coffee for the costumers, the place had an own library according to the needs of the visitors and had a place to maintain an art gallery. The colours of deep dark brown and scarlet with a small hint of gold provided the relaxing atmosphere with the music and the scent of thousand varieties of tea, books and fumigant.

Many had loved that small house, and since mainly professional people were in the circle of the customers, the bookshelves held not only best-sellers signed by the writers themselves but classics, anthologies, and special editions of famous literary work that had notes written in the margins by famous critics. Alfred mentioned that he had been there a couple of times mainly because the hot chocolate of the place was incredibly delicious, but Arthur was too absorbed in the atmosphere of the tea house to pay attention to his (occasionally) inane ramblings.

The hidden speakers from the corners and from the ceiling provided some peaceful new age-like music. Arthur stopped in the doorway with wide green eyes, paralyzed by the whole scene which lay in front of him. He sucked in his breath through slightly open lips as his eyes took in everything. Books. Tea. Tranquillity. The music coming from hidden speakers, soft murmur from the corners, cubicles in which people were sitting on carpets or on cushions. The smell of fresh tea and the pages of old books filled his nose and as he looked at Alfred he couldn't hold back a grateful, honest and loving smile the man deserved. Maybe he'd regret later that he showed Alfred a crack in his otherwise grouchy demeanour, but that seemed meaningless once he'd been engulfed in the tea house.

They could sit down peacefully and until they didn't ring the small copper bell on the wooden table, no one bothered them with questions.. After the friendly, soft-speaking waitress got their orders, Alfred leant back to the wall and sighed while his friend kept looking around, his perception slowly took in every piece of the place's image and decoration, filling his mind with pure adoration. He couldn't talk or set his look on something near to their table because his gaze was always attracted back to the bookshelves or to the wall of tea boxes. He was truly impressed, in every sense of the word and as Alfred looked at his messy blond hair which probably hasn't seen brush for years leading his gaze down to those pure green eyes shining in amazement. He sighed, taking the blonde's hand in his which the man didn't notice at all.

Arthur couldn't get enough of the place. He felt entirely in peace and amazement and as they sat together, Alfred caressed the upper side of his hand and studied him quietly. He felt that this behaviour was unusual coming from Alfred, but figured that it wasn't an unpleasant feeling to have him close and feel his presence. Arthur felt his heart beating in his chest as if it was the very first time that he was happy and content. How, and why did he deserve such a caring employee...? What had he done to have such a good man by his side...?

He had many questions about this place which he decided to bring up later. The precious silence and mesmerizing music, the scent of fresh forest fruit tea with a slight hint of Alfred's leather jacket made him lean back as well and let his eyes wander freely.

They didn't speak until Alfred offered to pay the bill. Normally, Arthur would at least contest the matter and offer to pay half but he decided against it this time. It was Christmas, after all. He might as well let himself be treated to something nice every once in a while.

"I hope you like it," Alfred said, as he signed off the bill.

"Thank you for bringing me here," Arthur replied, having a content, almost invisible smile on his lips.

"Don't even mention it. This place is yours. I knew you would love it. Here you can knit, read, and drink tea at the same time if you want."

"All at the same time? That'd be a bit difficult to do," Arthur said with a smirk on his lips but he gave a relaxed nod before he entwined his fingers with the American's.

"Sometimes writers and poets read for open mic nights. They have a calendar on the door, which says who and when will be here so you can follow the events too. Of course, you can always check their website and Facebook pages too." The taller blond suggested, still sitting calmly with his back at the wall and he didn't seem to bother about the time they spent there but his thumb caressed Arthur's hand still.

"This place is fascinating." The Englishman uttered as he looked back on his friend once again but the younger man shook his head. "If you want a raise…"

"Please, leave it. I didn't do it for that."

"I owe you more than I can imagine."

"You don't owe me anything." Alfred smiled quietly.

"I wish I knew why are you doing this."

"Arthur, please. Seeing you happy is enough."

The smaller man looked in his eyes one more time, and Alfred knew everything he had to.

. . .

He escorted Arthur back to the bakery with their bags and he was pleased and glad after long years. Arthur was the happiest he'd seen since he met the man as well. In fact, Alfred found himself genuinely relieved than he had been in months. He loved how Arthur was talking to him on the way home, telling him what he expected Alfred to do on the next week, now that he had the appropriate gloves for the job. The dark-blond haired man stayed in the shop for another hour to check if Arthur would be fine on his own (which of course he did) That, and he wasn't eager to return home where Sandra was likely waiting in fury since as the girl would put it, he was neglecting to the end.

As Arthur started doing taxes or boring important paperwork, Alfred paced the floor, sometimes looking at the thinner man as if asking for his attention. In his boredom he started repairing small things, like doorknobs, fixed the keychain of the storage and changed the bulbs in the corridor.

Around four in the afternoon Arthur went to look for his friend whom he found in the changing room, pulling the screw-nut of the wardrobe stronger with a new one between his lips. Alfred cocked an eyebrow. "Yes?"

"Oh, I'm just wondering if you wanted to go home to your girlfriend." Alfred frowned and shook his head as he returned to his task and when he pulled on the hold again, pretending not to hear the meaning of the previous sentence at which Arthur ducked his head. "Maybe you should go home, Alfred. You needn't babysit me."

"Nah, I don't want to go home," responded the younger man, as Arthur at all who leant to the doorway and folded his arms.

"Why? You have a girlfriend. Shouldn't you be embarking on 'adventures' with her on Christmas?"

"I do what I want." Was the simple reply.

"I'm afraid that I can't believe that you prefer to do chores around the shop."

"If you want me to leave just tell me."

"No, it's just... I thought you would have something better to do than... well, this is your workplace, isn't it?"

"Yeah, is it bad that I like it here?"

"No, I'm glad... I—'

"Am I bothering you?"

Arthur's eyes widened and he stepped closer to his friend. "No, not at all, I mean-..."

"So? Let me stay here."

"Is there something going on between your girlfriend and -"

"Don't mention it again. Please."

"Then why are you still together with her?"

"You think I ought to break it off with her?" Alfred lifted his eyebrows in surprise. He didn't expect Arthur to be so interested in his private life.

"I—I have no right to tell you anything." And now Arthur was escaping from the situation, as he averted his eyes and hugged his sides. "But as your boss, I am interested in your welfare. If you have a problem at home, those problems could follow you to the workplace." Arthur pursed his lips. "And if your plan is blame me for your absence and tell your girlfriend that I am an impossible slave driver that forces you to work on Christmas, I will not corroborate your alibi."

Arthur hummed and tilted his head on the left but in the end he just walked away in silence which seemed an odd way to end that conversation. He finished his task and accepted the small cup of warm tea which was waiting for him on the counter. But Arthur was nowhere, as if he was trying to hide from the American, and after looking for him for nearly ten minutes, Alfred gave up. He had no right to walk up on the stairs which led to the man's flat.

Later in the evening when Alfred arrived home and his girlfriend finally greeted him after two months of them mostly ignoring each other.

"Merry Christmas, Alfred," Sandra said, her eyes fixated on the television. She appeared to glaring at the screen. He gulped. Chances were that she was taking out her anger at him by directing it at something else.

"Merry Christmas, Sandra," he said with a guilty smile. "We should do presents, yeah?"

In complete silence, they opened their gifts from under the tree. He gave her the present which a plush cat from one of her favourite TV shows and a book about funny historical facts. He wasn't entirely sure if she would enjoy the latter gift when he purchased it, but he found it funny. On his part, Alfred opened the package of the new Marvels comic collection (which he got last year too, just the previous volume) and the docket to buy bags which. Sandra wanted him to buy bags...?

They both sat across from each other awkwardly before Alfred suggested they both watch 'A Christmas Story' together. Alfred let her cuddle up to him on the sofa and rest her chin on his left upper arm while he hugged her smaller shape to his. Somehow the whole scene seemed artificial and plastic to him however he knew that if he would just get up and go back to their bedroom to sleep or to play games on his laptop, Sandra would stop giving the cold shoulder and scream at him. Why were they still together? As he caressed the smooth and silky skin of the girl under her shirt, her warmness wasn't that magical or admirable like before. The scent of her hair began to be overwhelming along with her perfume. Even though she had a gorgeous body and generally a very nice personality, Alfred realized that they may not be able to fix this relationship. Everything was going wrong. Her silent anger was terrifying him.

"Sandra?" he asked, his voice a little weak. "Why are we always fighting?"

"I don't know. You are so dumb sometimes," she said, her voice still level.

"But I've done all that you asked for. I have a job. I'm saving up and I learned how to cook. I even clean the fridge too."

"No, Alfred, it's not just that. You are always working, and you're not with me at all."

"Well, when I arrive home, you never greet me."

"What? If I don't say hello when you walk through the door, that means you can ignore me? Disappear all Christmas day long without even a note?" She was starting to lose her composure.

"I know you're angry with me, but it's not fair that you're not cooking and doing the laundry for me anymore. I thought we were sharing the housework together and…"

"Do you hear yourself? Do you hear how bratty you sound? I am not your mother. You should be able to cook and clean for yourself. "

Alfred couldn't respond for a couple of minutes after that, because he had to stop himself from bursting into tears. Sure, she had a point, but it took him nearly three months to find any job, so that he could at least feel like he was being a good boyfriend and helping to pay the bills. About her last point, Sandra knew it very well too that before moving in with her, Alfred had lived with his Mom and his little brother... he never had to do anything on his own before, specially not in a strange, unknown city.

"Fine. I get it. I suck. But we're supposed to be girlfriend and boyfriend, and doesn't that mean we have to help each other sometimes? I got a job so that I can pay my half for the rent."

Sandra shook her head in disdain.

"Why aren't you working in the firehouse? Even as an office-worker, you would make better pay."

"Look, my salary is decent, Sandra. You can't say a word!"

"You're nothing more than a part-timer! Any kid can do your job. Helping out at a bakery is something you do when you're in college, Alfred. We're not in college anymore. We're done with that."

He bit the inner sides of his cheeks not to say his thoughts out loud. Maybe she was right. He spent too much time with Arthur and the bakery. He wasn't thinking about a future with her anymore. Alfred remembered the time he spent in the hospital alone before and he had to avert his eyes and thoughts from Sandra's mere presence beside him. Whenever _she_ wanted Alfred to be there, he had to oblige but when Alfred wanted _her_ support back then... it was different.

Suddenly he found her hypocrisy repulsing since all she was doing is demanding attention and such things that Alfred couldn't and simply didn't want to fulfil. Since the accident and the operation...

Noticing Alfred's sudden quietness, Sandra attempted to calm herself down. "Next time your boss forces you to work on Christmas, Alfred, tell me about it, okay? Bosses are awful, but you should tell me before you disappear like that."

"Don't pull him into this. It's not his fault."

She lost her temper again. She turned her head to face him and as Alfred saw the pure arrogance and selfishness in her eyes, but also the clear fact that she didn't believe his words at all.

"Wait. You mean to tell me that you weren't at work all day? Then where the hell were you?"

"No! I was at work! Arthur gave me the day off but I went to work anyway!" Alfred tried to form a coherent argument in his head but he couldn't find the words.

"Alfred, it's not even about the money. It's about how you handle me and how much time you give to me. You didn't take me anywhere these past months. I went to parties and places with my girls and all without you, because you were in your own little world! How am I supposed to deal with a boyfriend who doesn't like being around me?" She lifted her oversized, pinkly manicured hand at which Alfred stared for a second. When did she turn into a girl who liked stuff like these? When did she dye her hair more blonde...? "Alfred you're not paying attention at all because you are always tired or the work and we could work this out if you had a normal job! Your boss definitely has a bad influence on you, anyway."

"I said leave him out of this and if you had a slight clue about physical work you wouldn't talk like that about my work." The man knew his quiet murmur wasn't exactly the most muscular way to answer and as predicted, Sandra retorted with a ready answer.

"At least being a fireman is a steady job! Why didn't you look into doing that? Isn't that what you trained for?"

"Let's not talk about my fireman being, alright?" He tore his arm off her fingers and nearly jumped out from behind her to make his way to the kitchen. He really needed a coffee but of course, if he didn't make the black coffee for himself no one would switch on that damned machine. He leant on the counter and covered his face in his palms with his eyes closed for long seconds as he collected his thoughts again. Why did she always bring that up, over and over again...

All he wanted was to forget this argument and sleep in his bed till dawn to begin his work again...technically it was their bedroom which they were supposed to share, but seeing as they just had a fight, he was hoping that Sandra would sleep on the couch as she usually did anyway...

He had been told that he cannot work at the firehouse. It was a direct and unchangeable statement from the doctor and Sandra's opinion couldn't change that... and because Alfred had been trained for three years in vain, he felt useless. He didn't want to tell Sandra this, though, because he was worried that she already considered him worthless and might leave him.

When they met back then, he was in the training, and he told Sandra that yes, he really wanted to go and save people. He would break doors, run through the fire and carry out the injured like the cool heroes on those television shows she loved so much. But then that dream died and she was all he had left.

And now he wasn't sure if he wanted her around anymore.

Alfred wished for a cigarette he didn't have for years... with the small cup of coffee in his fingers he opened the door to the balcony and let his gaze wander on the sight of the street. His life with Sandra was in ruins, all because he was unable to be a normal boyfriend to her... he wasn't social or rich anymore as he used to be... back then.

He was just a man who had an operation, and whose dreams are thrown back by the hands of life.

. . .

For days nothing had changed in the shop after Christmas. Alfred's mood seemed to return to its old cheerful and rambunctious form, but as the New Year was approaching and he became more anxious about being with Sandra. Arthur would occasionally tell Alfred that he was doing excellent job helping out at the shop. Perhaps that was his way of trying to dissuade Alfred's anxiety about Sandra but after all these misunderstandings between them, after feeling guilty for leaving his girlfriend alone often because of his work, Alfred began to doubt that.

Previously his friends have told him that Sandra was a possessive and a self-centred woman and since Alfred tried to prove them wrong, most of them held grudges against him after some time. Now he had his little brother at home, close to the Canadian border around 900 miles away, and Arthur who shouldn't be involved in this matter... even though Alfred couldn't pull the boundaries between friend and boss anymore.

Maybe he was the one who thought too much about himself. He should've grown up like Sandra wanted. During a cigarette break, he felt Arthur's eyes on him from the inside. Alfred felt guilty that Arthur was worrying about him. He had seen him standing and observing him with folded arms with an expression on his face that was difficult to discern, both of his thick eyebrows frowning.. Alfred wasn't sure if he was frustrated at him or sympathetic towards him. He was never very good at reading the atmosphere.

Even if Alfred had made Arthur promise to call him whenever he felt lonely or whenever he needed someone to talk to, both of them knew that it won't happen. Moreover, it was Alfred who was in desperation and in an urgent need to secure himself but that he didn't want to admit.

On December 31st, he was walking on the streets alone, listening to music on iPod, trying to tune out any bad thoughts plaguing his mind. He made three big circles in town absolutely alone and yet he still couldn't calm down. He couldn't turn back time nor suddenly become able to apply at the firehouse. Even if he could, he wasn't sure if he would still be with Sandra. He liked to think everything would have been better if he could have gotten a job as a fireman, but Sandra and he would still be fighting and nothing would change other than his occupation. Or maybe it was a good thing that all these terrible events were happening because everything happens for a reason, right? Fights, break ups, deaths…

Death. As Alfred rounded Dudley Street, he stopped in front of the town's hospital as he recalled what Arthur had told him about his late husband. Francis couldn't make it until the arrival of the ambulance. Alfred gazed at the tall hospital building and he let out a sigh. He could see the steam of his breath in the air and the thought of seeing someone die in front of him made him shiver. And Arthur had seen his love die right in front of his eyes.

There was no point in staying with Sandra, he decided. He was twenty-four after all. He had to start getting serious about planning his future. He wanted a family. He'd marry someone sensible and they'd have a few kids. Oh, and cats! They'd have a few cats. A few pets in general. He could picture a gorgeous spacious house with a study filled with the finest of books to read. He felt his own mouth smile in spite of himself as he thought about Arthur again. He would like the idea of a huge, soft sofa with bookshelves behind it. There would be flower pots in every room for his imagined fairies. In the living room there would be enough space, so Arthur could read and Alfred would play his video games without having to be in separate rooms.

His mind snapped him awake from his wondering when he found that he had walked to the park again. A week ago he brought Arthur there. He liked it there. And he liked the coffee and tea house on Douglas. Alfred wanted to know more about Arthur. The poor man lived alone in the flat above the shop. Alfred frowned as he realized; he couldn't imagine what Arthur was doing these times. Did he read all the time? Maybe there are TV shows that he enjoys watching? He didn't seem like the couch-potato type, but Alfred wasn't sure.

Arthur never said anything about his activities at home.

Before he could have made up his mind to visit his friend, Sandra called him to come home as it was getting late.

At midnight he sent a message to Arthur, wishing him Happy New Year but the blond didn't answer. He was probably asleep.

It was going to be a shitty new year.

...

Unimportant Author Notes: Hey..! Thank you for reading the story, I hope you like it.

I would like to say thank you to my lovely beta, we are revising all of the chapters so I do apologize for being late with the update... I hope you find it worthy. Please leave us a review how you feel and what you think! Take care!


	7. Chapter 7

A couple of days later they returned together to the library where they made a card for Arthur for a whole year and Alfred let him wander in the building for an hour before reminding him on the institution's closing time. It was obvious that it was a hard time for Arthur to leave the library, he kept sighing and he was looking at the ground like a child who wanted to go back to the playground. To show his understanding and also to cheer him up a bit, Alfred put his hand on the Englishman's shoulder when they stood at a crossroad and Arthur smiled back at him, calm and peaceful, holding the pouch with five books in his left hand.

The quiet and resigned man knew that without his energetic and so positive employee he wouldn't go to places like these; the library, the tea house and the park...

And the New Year started with the same morning rush just like before, however Alfred expected some change from Arthur. The shop ran in the same routine like before and they haven't talked much during the time before noon. Somehow at that time Arthur seemed to enjoy the simple duties, when Alfred left for lunch he made his own sandwich and did his cross stitching in silence until a customer came.

The new pattern on the white fabric was two cats, one Scottish fold and one Ragdoll cat, sitting beside each other and looking at a flower. The flower was a simple yellow tulip but one small fairy was sitting on the leaf (this tiny creature was the challenge in the whole pattern) and the smaller cat lifted its paw as if pointing at it. When he showed the pattern to him, Alfred smiled in approval.

Even though they functioned perfectly in the shop something made the air tense and for a couple of days Alfred couldn't tell the reason. He paid special attention on his work and Arthur didn't correct him or scolded him for anything in return. The blonde spent most of his time behind the counter, read a book from the library or continued his needlework. Nothing seemed to be wrong but Alfred knew that something was up. Underneath his eyes, Arthur had dark shadows and his complexion was paler than usual. He became off-track more and more often, forgot the requests of the customers or mixed them, these times Alfred had to save the situation and serve the person. Arthur just sat down and sighed.

In the afternoons Alfred sat beside him and watched him work since Arthur was humming peacefully to a song and smiled in his close presence, he always seemed to calm when Alfred was near to him. These times the American leant back to the wall and closed his eyes, imagining himself like this at home, listening to Arthur's soft voice while sitting in a couch, covered in blankets.

. . .

By the end of January Alfred was able to tell that he didn't have any common thing with Sandra anymore. He tried to ask the girl out several times, he tried to invite her to the tea house or to take a walk but she simply refused to accept these attempts. She wanted to go and get drunk with her girls or visit a basketball match to gaze at her favourite basketball player. She made faces when Alfred asked her to go to cinema, telling him that she can download those movies and they can watch it at home as well. For that, the man simply shook his head in resignation because long ago Sandra loved to go to places, and now nothing interested her better than parties, fashion and television programmes. This wasn't the girl he fell in love with, back then. Shallow as the thought was, he felt like he was no longer her hero. Her personality changed and Alfred stayed the same. He was the problem in the relationship, the one who was unable to move on.

When he told this to Arthur, the man paid attention and hummed at some points but never agreed on Alfred's accusation of his own person, being too late or not enough to save his own relationship. Arthur sighed and gave him strict, almost teacher-like looks instead of telling him to stop; but these messages in his eyes expressed the utmost caring and calmness that Alfred felt a strange kind of peacefulness in his heart. It didn't matter how hard he tried to blame his childish and naive side during his time by Arthur's side assured him that he had someone to rely on.

His brother could also reach that level of understanding. Matthew offered to help him if he wanted to go back to his hometown and live there with his mother again until he stands up on his feet after he separates from Sandra.

Arthur asked him questions about his hobbies and his preference among women and when they were sorting the fresh and the hard buns, Alfred told him frankly; he had a thing for blonds and this made the Englishman smile and look fondly at him. Alfred couldn't stop the feeling that grew in his stomach every time Arthur smiled or looked him in the eyes with that accepting and forgiving love he couldn't miss, which made him stay long after closing to tell him his ideas about comic books and their stories in his energetic (mostly demonstrative) way or simply be around him and prepare for the next day. They took long walks around the park and in several streets close to the shop just to be outside and feel the fresh air while Arthur was listening to his stories and often helped him to understand the events better.

In fact, Arthur Kirkland was a great storyteller. After Alfred excitedly told his boss about the latest chapter in his favourite comic book series, it was Arthur's turn to tell a tale of his favourites and the American enjoyed each and every one. During the tales he often bumped into people on the streets and forgot to stop at the lampposts because once Arthur began a tale Alfred felt entirely involved so after a few days of experiencing the same accidents, Arthur suggested to go to the tea house where they could sit down and beside two cups of tea they could enjoy the tales better.

With this idea, their tea house attending routine began and it made Alfred's heart dance every morning on Monday, Wednesday and Friday morning. He knew that in the evening he will meet Arthur personally and not professionally, they will have a great time discussing comic books' stories and original English, Welsh or Irish tales (which Arthur knew by heart). The crew of the tea house remembered them after two weeks and prepared an Earl Grey for Arthur and a simple latte macchiato for Alfred but in a huge cup.

Alfred decided to tell Arthur about the Marvel universe. Once he started talking, there wasn't anything which could have stopped him. These times Arthur often shook his head and held back a smile as the tall and slightly muscular American explained him battleships and galactic relationships among super heroes with an absolutely charming, still childlike enthusiasm but as their discussions went on, he began to babble about the characters' backgrounds.

"That's what his shield looks like!" Alfred brought up a picture of Captain America's famous shield on his smartphone and handed the device to Arthur. "It's from an alien element called 'vibranium', stronger than diamonds and it has special power. It can cast or dodge all kinds of attack, let it be bullets, lasers or anything."

"This sounds interesting though a bit cliché." Arthur said, handing back the small phone before looking back at his teacup, "It's easier to make up a new element than digging into chemistry, isn't it? Oh, the beauty of artistic license."

Alfred continued, his hands moving wildly as he spoke."Captain America was created in the second World War - I mean, in the story. The nation needed someone to look up to. That was the original idea, at least, but then you know, marketing. Now he's a part of the Avengers crew. A real leader!"

"In other words, he is like every other superhero, then. Getting DNA-manipulated, longevity, reliability, urge to save the world and protect the innocent, tall and muscular like a body builder..."

"In the movie he is not." Alfred lifted his index finger to call his friend's attention and he began typing in his phone again. "That's the great thing which I love about the movies, the men are not all steroid-addicted dumbasses, like, Steve isn't stupid at all."

"Right. But, in the comics, he…" Alfred rolled his eyes at that before letting a slight smile on his lips.

"In the comics he isn't stupid either but in the movie, they show his human side."

"There's a Captain America movie?" Arthur tilted his head on the right before leaning forward to look on the screen of Alfred's phone. "I shouldn't be surprised, I suppose. Hollywood is always releasing new superhero films. Hm. I can't say that I'm terribly interested in watching it, but it's much easier to watch a dull film than to listen to your whining."

Alfred blinked a couple of times before believing his own ears, and what he heard from Arthur's lips. For some seconds he couldn't come up with a proper answer either; just cleared his throat and looked up on the man in front of him, surprised and still hesitating. "You would like to watch Captain America?"

Arthur nodded with confidence in his green eyes, then with a light shrug he lifted his cup to his mouth. "I'm not doing it for your sake, of course. One has to be open-minded, after all."

"Good!" The Englishman's eyes snapped open in surprise as Alfred cheered on the other side of the table. "The first we'll watch Captain America, then Incredible Hulk - er, the second version, that is. The first version was kinda lame. Then, we'll watch Iron Man, Iron Man 2, then Thor, and then Avengers and the Green Lantern and all the Spiderman trilogy - well, maybe not the last one of the Spiderman trilogy - and then the deleted scenes..."

"May God give me patience for all that." Arthur rolled his eyes as he put his jaw in his palm, secretly finding it sweet as the twenty-four year old man counted all the movies he wanted to watch. "So, that is...?"

"Nine movies and the deleted scenes!"

"If it's like that we should start after closing and take it slow, like, one movie each day." The older man sighed at the pouting, begging face of the boy. "Don't sulk you git, I can't sit that much in front of the telly!"

"Yeah, sure, but when it's your stupid needlework, you can sit for days."

Arthur frowned and pounded his fist on the table. "Don't you dare calling it stupid!"

"Alright, alright..." Alfred averted his eyes from his friends, folding his arms and pouting. As Arthur watched him for a couple of seconds he couldn't take the man's childish behaviour, just from the look of his strong, now flexing arms and his broad shoulders. He didn't resemble a child no matter how he tried so he continued his quiet rambling. "Of course, after you watch one movie you'll say you're so tired and you can't watch anything else so I'll have to go home and when you will be relaxed again, you'll watch the rest without me."

"Trust me, I don't watch that Hollywood rubbish by myself."

"Hey!" At that high-pitched voice, other guests of the tea house turned to look at them and Arthur hid his eyes and forehead with his palm in embarrassment. This boy will ruin his standing in society. "They aren't trash. You haven't even watched them!"

"And there is a reason for that."

"Fine. If you're that stuck up, then I'll stop hanging out with you."

A couple of seconds had passed till both of them calmed enough and Arthur knew he had gone too far in sarcasm. Probably the English irony was beyond Alfred and it would be fine if he wasn't hurt by hearing it... but he was. Clearly, as he looked on the American and saw his resigned, sulking eyes averted to the ground and to the cup in front of him, Arthur let the air out of his lungs with a content, accepting smile on his lips. He tried to reach out for Alfred but the man pulled his arms away from his touch and seeing the genuinely hurt, resigned sadness in those sky-blue eyes, the blond man bowed his head before he stood up and took Alfred's hand in his. The boy swallowed before taking a short glance up on his friend, then shrugged. "What?"

"Look, I want to watch the films with you, all right?"

Alfred sighed. "Mh... All right. We'll watch them for a week because an old man like you can't stay in front of the TV for too long."

Arthur frowned again and held back a retort. "O...okay." He took a deep breath before answering, keeping his voice calm as far as he could. Beside a grown-up man he never expected himself to let the other have his joy over such simple things, but Alfred's eyes were still avoiding him in such manner which didn't let Arthur's heart shrug it off. Good Heavens, he always lost the battles against sad puppy-eyes.

"Alright. I will watch the movies with you, but it would be easier if we watch one movie every evening, so we can discuss them, and not have to run out the night of and get the next one. What do you think?"

Alfred mumbled something under his breath. Then, without much hesitation, he turned their hands over so now he was holding on Arthur's upper hand, caressing the skin with his thumb as he did before. Maybe this offer was acceptable for his pride and childish self and he agreed on starting the marathon on Friday evening after closing the shop. Arthur nodded and let out a sigh while he shook his head. Alfred still avoided his gaze because, as he murmured, Arthur stole his idea.

. . .

It was easier to send Alfred to the post office or to the city hall, to handle official papers and before Arthur could have explained to himself the reason for that, Alfred already guessed and told him; the people remembered him after a few encounters and they trusted him enough, not to check the contains of the envelopes on the spot. The boy loved to befriend people, not only costumers but office workers as well and this affected their work in general. The more friends Alfred made on his way, the more people came in to say brief 'hello' to him and to Arthur, occasionally buying something from them. Not so surprisingly, most of these new friends of Alfred were... girls.

As if someone could stop him when his cool mode switched on? Arthur let his head fall and cover his eyes or clutched at his temple as if he had terrible headache when the younger man openly flirted with a girl in front of him, somehow with this ridiculous game of his, making Arthur jealous. When he was at work, he shouldn't play around after all. This was a bakery, not a dating service!

"Don Juan, don't forget you have some things to do over here!" He reminded the boy from time to time, and by addressing him like that he made the girl chatting with Alfred blush, while Alfred played cute, shrugged his shoulders, and went back to work.

"Right, right, no need to be so impatient." He said, taking the huge wooden box in his hands to carry it back on the corridor.

"You, and your ridiculousness. Look what you have done! When we're about to close, three girls are waiting for you outside to entertain them. I shall open a circus with you instead of a bakery shop."

"Come on Artie, you're just jealous."

The Englishman tried to articulate a retort but his voice failed him; instead he felt his cheeks burn and all he could do was to slap the taller man's shoulder.

"I'm not!"

"Yes, you are. I bet you don't know how to compliment a girl! Your early years must have been tough, huh?"

That comment, as far Arthur was concerned, warranted another slap on the shoulder.

…

On Thursday evening, Arthur opened his William Shakespeare collection and turned to the opening page of Henry IV with a couple of sheets of paper beside him on the table. He had to find retorts and names for this twit, but not some colloquial slang words. Not that he tried to impress the young American, but to encourage him to read actually worthy literature and improve his vocabulary. The next day was Friday and as well as writing small notes for himself, Arthur decided to clean up and provide a neat atmosphere to his flat by the time Alfred will be there.

He didn't understand himself. It was the first time that Alfred had fun with an other person in front of him, and he felt completely bewildered, he couldn't take his eyes off the girl and from Alfred's face. That annoying brat face of his, beaming and blabbering all the time.

In his reasonably offended scoffing Arthur didn't pay attention enough as he was vacuuming the carpet in front of the television, almost letting one of his flower-pots fall from the bookshelf. His fumbling was also Alfred's fault without question. The fairies were nodding too.

By the time he was done with the laundry and the dusting of the shelves his dinner got burnt but he ate it anyway. That's why he never cooked for himself, if there was a distraction and he completely forgot about the oven. Alfred's fault.

As he was chewing nervously on his slightly burnt food and watched the fairies play mid-air, Arthur moaned something which sounded like; "insufferable git" before shaking his head in frustration. Back then Francis had the same habit, standing in the costumer's area, chatting with girls and in the end they bought a lot of things because Francis convinced them without noticing it, but Alfred?

Arthur held back a yawn as he looked at the clock to see it was already around eight in the evening and he was still nowhere in his job. He had to clear his clothes and books from the sofa, clean and re-clean the bathroom... It was so troublesome to have a guest, after almost two years, Arthur thought. Worse still, he was the idiot who offered Alfred to come his flat. He had no one to blame but himself.

While eating, he decided to check some issues from those blasted comic books as well, because he didn't want to sound like an old man from the prehistoric times. It's not as though he was interested in reading the silly things. Of course not.

. . .

The Friday morning came abruptly as Alfred switched his alarm off and prepared to dress. For that day he decided to wear a black long-sleeved tee with dark blue shirt on it besides his jeans. Normally he would ask Sandra about his looks and if he did fit for the workplace's morale but since she was still asleep, Alfred decided to let her rest for the morning. It was the day before the weekend, and even if Sandra was nagging about the idea, he wanted to take the girl to see the roller-skaters in the suburbs. She loved doing this when they were in Rochester and maybe she would start doing sports with him again if she saw some people actually doing things. If this plan would work, they could go jogging together again.

But Alfred sighed when he opened the fridge and found his bottle of cocoa empty. Sandra drank his chocolate milk during the night even though she knew, Alfred _needed_ it every morning. The previous night he found all of his clothes taken out from the washing machine, still wet, because she needed to wash her uniform for a party, held by the company she worked for. Now all of his clothes were in the bedroom, waiting for the ironing some time at the weekend.

As revenge he put Sandra's ready-made sandwiches and her iced tea in his backpack before putting his jumper and the hardware with the movies in there as well. She deserved it... after living together for two years she should know that the morning couldn't start without his chocolate milk, and if she decided to start a passive aggressive warfare against him, who was Alfred to stop her? He'll definitely drag her along to watch football Saturday night, instead of going out with her "girls." Alfred almost imitated the way Sandra pronounced the word but he silenced himself quickly and left the apartment.

Even if his morning started with some resentment, seeing Arthur sweeping the pavement in front of his shop made Alfred's heart dance happily in his chest and he almost crossed the road without paying attention to the lamp. Arthur wore his usual black jeans with leather shoes, but under the coat he wore light green shirt with a darker vest and this composition brought the lively and gorgeous emerald shade of his eyes along with his shiny, hay-blond hair. Noticing Alfred on the way, the Englishman waved at him but Alfred could see that his boss had already planned some tasks for him to do that day, judging from his frown with those heavy eyebrows and how stiff his lips were. He looked paler than usual and Alfred couldn't miss the shadows beneath his eyes either, but decided not to say anything about it.

"Morning, Arthur!" He greeted the man with a bright smile on his face, ready to seize the day as he was.

"Morning, morning, now change your clothes and get to work. Yesterday you left all the remaining buns on the shelves and didn't collect the breadcrumbs. When I wanted to wash up this morning, the cloth got totally ruined I think we have to buy a new one," grumbled the blonde, following him in the shop and put the broom in its place.

"Finally, it was very old anyway," smiled Alfred back at the smaller man, but Arthur seemed to be in a grumpy mood that morning.

"Should I deduct it from your paycheck then? Don't be careless if you are here, perfection and attention run the best business and you are supposed to know that already. You've been working here for almost half a year. It's simple logic, Alfred!"

"Alright, alright. Whatever, Eyebrows." The taller man just waved at his friend after unzipping his jacket and hanging it on the wall, but when he reached to get his apron his eyes met the Englishman's, and he nearly jumped to the wall in panic. "Jesus Christ, what is it?!"

Arthur held his fists beside his sides and had such an expression on his face which could have been envied by a mad lion. The smaller, but not so much weaker man stepped closer to Alfred, who took his back pack in front of himself as if it could protect him from a flaming Kirkland. "Jeez, what did I say? What have I done? I'm sorry!"

"Do not dare to call me Eyebrows, or I swear to bloody hell I'm going to kick your arse out of the shop!"

"Sir, yes, sir!"

"Will you remember not to call me that with your tom-tit sized brain?!"

"Yes, yes! I'm sorry!"

"Now get to work!" The boy disappeared from his sight, tying his apron on his back in the split of the second before starting to clean the shelves at record speed while Arthur leaned at the doorway of the costumer's area and massaged his temple with his fingers of his left hand, hugging his side with the right. "You... insufferable brat. Don't let any of them fall, okay?"

This is how their day started on a Friday, in the end of January... on the day when things began to change and either of them knew actually who held the steering wheel anymore. For an hour or so Alfred looked at his friend like a traumatized, kicked puppy with such eyes that often Arthur thought about himself as a cruel and horrible person. How could he hurt Alfred in such way, how could he talk to him in such terrible manners? Poor boy, he kept the shop in perfect cleanness and did the chores without asking for them (alright, accidents happened) so all Arthur had to do was to serve the costumers and check the cash register.

Although he had definitely harrowed Alfred's feelings in the morning the man sat beside him during lunch-break and looked at him, checking Arthur's food and the way he ate but when a new costumer entered, his eyes kindled and he sprang up to help the person in need.

Around three in the afternoon, Arthur doubted if an energetic and hyperactive Alfred was worse than a sad and hurt Alfred?

He even let Alfred go out early for donuts, as if the American's diet wasn't unhealthy enough. How could someone eat like that for long?

When the time to close approached the clock, Arthur shook his head affectionately and let the man change his clothes and have a cup of coffee first, so this time he started to clean the shop, leaving Alfred to pull himself together. Fridays were always exhausting and now they prepared to watch movie together... as the blonde realized the situation, his eyes lit up and looked back to the corridor which led to the storage and the changing room. "Alfred?"

"Coming!"

"No, I just wanted to ask, that... did you bring the movies?" The man's voice came from the back of the building, a bit distant but Arthur understood it.

"Sure thing, man. I promised, after all."

Great. Now he'll lead him up the stairs and show him around in the flat. Luckily he could finish sorting and cleaning yesterday so there wouldn't be any "inappropriate objects" left in the living room.

When Alfred appeared in the hallway Arthur put the mop aside and watched as the young man made his looks perfect; caressed the shirt down on his sides to prevent them from crinkling, stroked his hair on the left side and checked his jaw with his fingers too... the scene was somehow too familiar to Arthur but before he could draw parallels with the past, Alfred took his backpack and signalled to be ready. "Shall we, then?"

"Sure. This way."

Arthur stepped aside the American and led him to the narrow line of stairs which led up to his apartment; that staircase was his secret entrance to the bakery every morning. That place was small and narrow. For a second, Arthur was wondering if the tiny space was comfortable for Alfred to follow him, but when he opened the dark green wooden door to enter the flat, he heard Alfred gasp almost silently behind his back.

As they stepped inside, Arthur guided his friend and showed him where to put his shoes and jacket, and offered him a pair of slippers for the time being. As the young man looked around, Arthur was flattered and quite glad with the sight that welcomed him. Of course, after a few instructions his friend made his way in the living room while he walked in the kitchen to put some water in the kettle. He saw Alfred, putting his backpack on the sofa and pulling a small black device out of it he turned to the television and looked for the remote, probably. Arthur didn't have much experience with this kind of technology but he was certain that Alfred must have known what he did.

In fact the man sat up the system quite easily and told him, according to the plan they'll start with Captain America and by hearing the title, Arthur's mind rushed back to all the information he gained from the previous night's secret comic book readings. Of course he warned the enthusiastic lad about the fact that until his tea was not done, he wouldn't make himself comfortable so they had to wait a few minutes. Alfred accepted this and leant back on the sofa.

When Alfred asked for popcorn, and Arthur turned back at him with raised eyebrows and with a confused look on his face, the American pouted.

"You don't have popcorn and you want to watch a movie? Why?" He whined, but the Englishman shook his head in response.

"Why would I have popcorn with me if I don't like it?"

"You invited me over and you're acting selfish. I like popcorn! Most people do! Why do you only think about yourself?"

"Alfred, start this movie already. I promise next time that we will have popcorn for you."

"I like buttered popcorn, by the way," Alfred added. He pushed the _Play_ button on the remote control. For a couple of minutes both of them were silent as the movie showed its beginning scenes but soon Arthur found himself somehow a bit... bored. Though the storyline was something that he could predict and heard it already, watching it and seeing Alfred absolutely involved in the story did worth the time. Yes, the movie did have some interesting scenes but all in all the plot was everything that a Hollywood-made film needed; a weak guy who struggled to defend justice and freedom, he was righteous and caring - and suddenly, he became the hero and saviour of a whole nation.

Arthur tilted his head on the left as he examined Steve Rogers' character from a closer point of view. On the inside, the guy remained a boy who was still afraid of women and he was naive to realize their attempts, he was enthusiastic in his job and... yes, he did have a crush on his workplace. However he did his best in organizing the actions and carrying home victory with his friends as if he came home from a football match, Arthur found it curious in the movie that besides his personality and his gained super-human strength, Steve wasn't good in anything else.

"Seems like this super-soldier is a bit flat in character," he commented, when Steve just dodged a dozen of the enemy's attacks, and from his peripheral vision he could see Alfred's head shaking in disagreement.

"Look closer."

Arthur clicked with his tongue and took the pillow from behind his back into his arms, while Alfred shifted and pulled his legs beside himself, pulling his shoulder down from the arm of the sofa and he sighed when he found his most comfortable position; adjusting his feet to Arthur's thighs and hugged his sides. The two remained in silence for a great amount of time after this, for which Arthur was thankful and tried to find those hidden points that Alfred already knew. He shouldn't have been surprised at that; the man has probably seen this movie a couple of times before.

"So..." He wished to start elaborating on the idea aloud, but the American interrupted him.

"Shhh!"

"Alright."

The story continued in a pretty dynamic way and Arthur found himself frowning when Steve got in trouble in the base of the enemy's leadership; even though he looked prepared and calm enough to hold his composure. The arch enemy's identity, now seeming to reveal made him gasp quietly and the Briton bit his lower lip in confusion. Will this lead to an identity crisis for Steve, it is such a cliché that it would be almost expected... to be an experiment for the government...

"Alfred?"

"Shh."

"No, wait..."

"Shh."

"But—"

"Dude, please pay attention. This is serious!"

Arthur blinked a couple of times before taking in a sharp breath. Did Alfred just silence him because of the movie? It was serious? Well then!

"You see, he explains it now."

_Oh._

"He has something that most people lack."

"Let me guess, pureness, honesty and he is righteous?"

"You clearly didn't pay attention."

At that point Arthur frowned and turned his head to try and face the other, but Alfred was still laying on his side and hugged himself, eyes fixed on the screen and he just blinked every now and then. The blonde's heart sank as he saw something dark, almost bitter but very much sullen expression of his friend, his eyes were sorrowful and disappointed for some reason.

"The doctor said it a couple of times," the man continued, carefully timing his sentence when the characters on the screen were silent, "Steve has heart. He didn't join to the military for fame and success." He was silent for a couple of seconds again, when Arthur averted his eyes from his shape but looked down and saw those black socks pressed to his legs.

"Steve didn't join the military to work out or to have salary. He volunteered around ten times before, you saw." He said.

"Yes."

"Okay." Alfred cleared his throat, now closing his eyes for a couple of seconds before continuing, "He wanted to be accepted because he wanted to go and fight. He didn't want to hurt anyone, but stop the madness in the world. He wanted to put an end to war, even if this means sacrificing himself. You can say that he took the serum to make himself better, but if you look at it, he made a tool of himself. He was a tool to get money, then a tool to carry out victorious missions. And he didn't think about his soul at all, nor his parents or anyone. He wanted to go and save people, no matter what. He ran into that factory, and saved his best friend from a burning and self-destroying complex."

Arthur bit his lower lip in confusion as he watched the man laying beside him and he couldn't miss the way Alfred swallowed before taking a deep breath, now forcing himself to blink and keep his lips in a straight line.

"Steve is not famous for being righteous or I don't know... pure. He killed people, he destroyed things. He never said he was pure. At times, when he stayed in silence he kept his opinion for himself. But he never gave up on himself; he never stopped being Steve Rogers for the sake of anything. He tried to be there for his friends and when he was hurt, he didn't want to bother anyone with his pain."

"Alfred."

"I'm saying that Steve is much more than a super-soldier. He is loyal to the most fundamental principles of his life, and you will see later, he is the one who can stand up anytime, and run into buildings to save people. No matter how injured or exhausted he is. If there is someone in need, Steve Rogers' will not waste a minute to come and save the person. No matter how injured he is."

The Englishman hummed in agreement, even though his gaze was wandering on different dimensions of sight by then. Listening to Alfred's slow and so deliberate explanation, his attention was drawn from the happenings in the movie to a much more frequent phenomenon that lay right in front of him. In the sunset, Alfred's hair gained an almost glowing shade of gold, above his ears it was still darker, like honey. The man's shape slightly shifted as the younger man pushed himself on his back and looked directly in Arthur's emerald green eyes, telling him all by his gaze, sometimes looking down the place when their bodies met, and then he sighed. "I'm being sentimental, right?"

Arthur felt as a weak, but content smile crept up on his lips on the one side. "Definitely."

"I've always been."

"It's alright to be."

Alfred turned his head towards the screen again, leaving his hands on his flat stomach for some time before swallowing hard again. "I expected something like, 'yes, you childish idiot, blabbering about these silly American movies..."

"I guess, if we arrive to my favourites, you would hear the same blabbering."

"Oh." Alfred smiled at that, turning back on his back and nodded upwards, as if telling Arthur to go on. "And what is your favourite?"

"Doctor Who. Obviously."

"You're as British as they come, aren't you?" Alfred said with a laugh. Arthur frowned and almost spoke up loud when he noticed the mischievous smirk that Alfred had by the time he was about to tell him off. As the seconds passed by and both of them were smiling, Arthur ducked his head and shook it affectionately before looking up on the man again, who was now mocking him by pulling his left eyebrows up. He was acting almost like he was asking for some retort.

"Idiot."

"And because of you, slowpoke, we have to watch the previous ten minutes over again."

"Really now!"

_**. . .**_

_To Be Continued._

A/N: I would like to say thank you to everyone who is reading the story. I'm sorry for the long break, I bet all ff writers are apologizing as well. :D

Please leave me reviews, it always help to continue when I see feedback, let it be good or bad. :3

I'd like to say a huge thank you, specially to my beta. Without her, I don't know where this story would be. XOXOXO


	8. Chapter 7 and a second

**7.2 Chapter**

The movie was making its way towards the end when Arthur felt calm enough to let his hand rest on Alfred's ankles beside his legs. The American had paid close attention to the film for the past couple of minutes, but he was also ready to explain something to the Englishman if he didn't understand something from the movie. Arthur felt his gaze often wander from the television to the side to look at the peaceful, comfortable shape of his friend on the sofa.

However, the silence began to become uncomfortable. It had been companionable until Alfred had quieted the last time. Since then, the American's eyes didn't move from the screen.

It took a long while for Arthur to deduce his friend's emotions from his posture and his expression. He hugged his sides and his knees were half way pulled up to his chest. His feet were pressed against Arthur's thighs as if it were a reminder that he was not alone. He obviously didn't care if his hair and glasses to looked neat- half of his head was buried into the pillow which he held under his neck. His expression was burdened, bitter and sullen. Arthur felt his heart sink. He wanted to help the boy, but had no idea how to initiate an actual conversation.

"I bet they'll make a soppy romantic ending." Arthur commented and bit his lower lip in excitement while he waited on the other's reply. He knew how Captain America's fate will continue thanks to his research the other day. Alfred just shrugged and yawned.

"You'll see."

"That'd be so American. He will crash into the ice and she'll be left alone. Make the theatre cry for the rest of the night."

"Are you really that shallow, or are you pretending?"

Arthur frowned and turned his head to face the American who had an annoyed, almost hurt expression. "Really now? Calm down."

"Why are you so cynical? It's a very good movie."

"I've never said it wasn't good."

He could hear Alfred's tongue clicking and the boy fidgeted for some moments before lifting his left index finger. In the movie, Captain America had just sat down to look at the board panel to get the plane under control. "Now, pay attention."

The last minutes of the movie were spent in silence. Arthur was frowning, and even though he knew the ending, he didn't expect it to be that cheesy. Of course, they didn't say goodbye in the proper ways and Steve _had_ to have distraction from his tragedy. He just rolled his eyes when they talked about dancing... this symbol of being in harmony with another person occurred numerous times during the movie, now once more?

At the last minute when Steve had just articulated his punch line, having had a date he couldn't attend, Arthur chuckled and hummed in appreciation. "Indeed, he is late with seventy years from that date."

"Alright." Alfred shifted into a sitting position and pushed the stop button on the remote control. "I know you didn't like this one but the Iron Man is much better. You'll see. My personal favourites are these movies."

Arthur made a sound of agreement and nodded at this, but before Alfred could move and stand up from the couch, the Englishman reached for his ankle beside his thigh and held it. Green eyes met sky blue ones and Arthur had to recollect his thoughts before saying them out. He barely whispered, but Alfred's stern expression had softened until he nodded. A weak, apologetic smile appeared on his lips. "You... You don't have to be ashamed. The movie was great. I mean... adventurous, romantic and... I liked it."

The taller man hummed, his eyes rekindled. He pulled his ankle out of Arthur's hand so he could stand up and walk to the television. "Thank you, but I'm sure you'll like Iron Man better. That man seems to be a bit stuck up and arrogant but you'll see his reasons."

"I know." Alfred looked back from above his shoulder and blinked in surprise.

"You know?"

"I hope so," the blonde chuckled and watched Alfred as the boy took the portable hard-drive from the TV and opened his arms.

"Well, that's for tomorrow, I think."

"Why—I mean..." Arthur stood up and fumbled with his hands for a couple of seconds while his friend bent to get his back pack from the floor. He really wished Alfred to stay a little more, "would you like a cup of tea, or maybe just..."

"Hey, we'll meet soon, Arthur." The young man gave him a reassuring smile and nod before leaving to the entrance, followed by the blonde. "Tomorrow, we're gonna watch Iron Man. Dude, that movie is freakin' awesome, the technology and his stuff..." he went on, not listening to Arthur's long sigh when the man leant to the doorway and crossed his arms. "His best friend is his self-built computer, J.A.R.V.I.S. and he has around ten cars, and not the Skoda stuff, but Chevrolet's and the newest Audis."

Arthur averted his eyes from the squatting man and instead of watching him putting his shoes on, the Englishman bit his lower lip and cleared his throat. He had to find out something to keep Alfred there, just one thing, a tiny excuse... not for the night, just ten minutes and make that longer...

The moments passed and Alfred took his jacket from the fangs to put it on. Right... of course Alfred wished to go home and retire for the night. It had been an exhausting day, and not just that, Alfred certainly had other things to do than chit-chat with him! When the boy in question gave him an unsure and restless look, Arthur moved to the door and opened it for him but the taller man tilted his head on the right. It could be seen on him...? That...

"Well?" Alfred forced a weak, questioning smile on his lips before zipping his jacket up to his chest. Arthur averted his gaze from his eyes and cast his eyes aside as if trying to avoid all kinds of pure contact with him. "Come on."

He couldn't come up with anything. Alfred was tired obviously, during the movie he didn't move much either and both of them had a long and tiring day. Alfred would probably like to head home and relax. Right... he had a girlfriend at home. He... had someone to return to, even if they weren't on the best terms at the moment. It was still a connection...

In the end, Arthur ossified his heart and lifted his head to look in those sky-blue eyes.

"Take care."

At that, the American nodded. Before stepping out on the door, he smiled. "I always do."

**. . .**

The rest of the night passed in silence and resignation for the blonde. For a couple of hours, he had slept blissfully. Yet, when the clock passed midnight, his mind slipped back to consciousness and he realized he couldn't fall back into sleep. The stable rhythm on the windows of the raindrops provided familiar note to the melody of his thoughts, calling back memories of the past, reviving moments of belonging to someone and doing things for their happiness. Caring, and the returned affection..

The rain didn't stop. It became heavier as the night went on, and Arthur could no longer find peace in his bed anymore. To be lost in time wasn't surprising for him either, especially now that the clock in the living room had ran out of power and he didn't have new battery to replace it. He slipped into the main room and switched on the small lamp beside the sofa, letting the light discover the objects of his living room, letting the bedroom, the kitchen and the entrance be forgotten in the dark.

He prepared to continue his cross-stitching, starting the leaf of the flower by now. Alfred always seemed to be surprised and amazed how fast he progressed on this piece of needlework. The hours crawled slowly and Arthur found himself checking his wristwatch more and more often. His heartbeats and the sound of rain filled the flat. He soon he got bored of the cross-stitching.

He put his work aside and crossed his arms in restlessness; he couldn't find a comfortable sitting position or a book that would calm his nerves. The exact reason of this nervousness wasn't revealed even in front of him, so the Briton decided to go against his usual routine and retired back to his bed and covered his slim shape with the blankets. The next day, which was already that day, Alfred will probably stay a bit more with him. He could only hope... but after such an awkward attempt yesterday evening, he barely believed in the chance.

The morning arrived with the sound of the annoying phone and its alarm to wake up. Arthur shook his head in disapproval but lifted himself to yawn and ran his fingers through his hair. One more day... one more morning alone.

The weather forecast had lied, terribly, and Arthur just shook his head when he opened the front door of his flat, right beside the shop's huge window. Small creeks wandered on the sides of the road and soft vapour covered all figures that passed by on the roads. His own umbrella soaked after two minutes of standing outside, and despite his warm raincoat, Arthur felt the cold creep up on his spine and on his feet.

Just as predicted, the truck was late and Arthur sighed, holding his Union Jack patterned umbrella above his head. His raincoat was already heavy with moisture, even with the protection. He checked his wristwatch again and decided to go back in the shop, since it was almost a quarter past five and the truck could not be seen on the street, but at the moment when Arthur had put his umbrella aside, Alfred nearly fell into the shop, splurging a decent amount of water everywhere; the floor, the wooden furniture, the boxes. Arthur felt his rage build up inside; he puffed his cheeks and took a breath to start yelling at the boy, when Alfred tore the zip down on his jacket, threw it on a shelf and hugged himself, shuddering. "Sorry, sorry, I'm sorry Arthur," chattered the younger man, rubbing his sides to warm himself up.

Arthur couldn't react for a couple of seconds. First, seeing his friend in such a terrible state, soaked clothes from toes to the top of his head, glasses foggy and glistening with raindrops on the surface; then the sump he stood in... he couldn't let the boy catch cold! The thought struck him like the thunder that flashed outside of the shop.

"Come, now!" He ordered his friend to follow him and Alfred did so; for a couple of seconds while Arthur fiddled with the keys, he could hear the dark-blonde shudder behind him. In the moment the door opened, Arthur reached behind his back and grabbed Alfred's wrist to pull him up the stairs into his flat and lead him to his bedroom in front of his wardrobe. As he pulled the door of the left side open, Alfred shuddered from the cold again when he embraced himself with his arms. His bare skin must have been cold to touch as well.

"Woah, wait, I..." The American's body shivered violently, despite his wishes not to.

"Shut it."

"Can I... just a jumper, it's enough." Alfred's breath was shaky as he pronounced the words, and Arthur shook his head in disapproval as he turned to the boy, a new idea forming in his head.

"Go and take a shower, I'll prepare clothes for you," he practically ordered him, grabbing him and heading towards the bathroom, which was just next to the bedroom but the boy didn't seem to understand his intentions.

"I—I'm sorry, Arthur, I was waiting for the bus and it was late and I ran all the way but.."

"Just go, Alfred, take a shower!" Arthur opened the door and entered to take a clean towel from the shelves and hand it to the other, but Alfred was still standing outside, in his soaked white shirt and now dark-blue jeans. His Converse left water slumps behind each of his steps and Arthur stepped aside to pull him in the small room, and take the mop to wash up after his friend's traces.

"But, I..."

"Take a hot shower so you won't catch cold! Is that too hard to understand?"

"I just wanted to say thank you, and I apologize for being late!"

Arthur just rolled his eyes before closing the door on the man's face.

"But if we are at this point, can I ask for a shirt and socks too?"

The loud horn of the truck interrupted their conversation and before Alfred could open the door of the bathroom, Arthur yelled, "I'll get the stuff from the truck, I'll be back in a minute!" and disappeared on the stairs which lead down to the shop. Alfred cleared his throat and hugged himself again before turning around and taking a look at the small room.

So... he was in Arthur's bathroom. He had a small tub with a sink beside it, small shelves on the wall and the toilet in the other corner, just like a normal bathroom. Yet, when Alfred took his clothes off and set his glasses on the sink and stepped in the tub, his eyes spotted a yellow rubber duck and he couldn't stop himself from chuckling at the sight. His friend also had lavender shower gels and simple menthol shampoos, but when the younger man sat down on the edge of the tub at the wall and opened the water, his thoughts began to drift from the average sights...

That was the place when Arthur had started his day. This is where he brushed his teeth every morning and every night, the place where he shaved, checked his appearance in the mirror. This is where he showered... in the same place Alfred was now... before he could stop his thoughts, Alfred's lips opened slightly as his mind told him, yes, this is the place where Arthur took his clothes off. He took those vests off, unbuttoned the shirts slowly, carefully, not to tear any of the buttons because he respects his, and slid it from his shoulders. Arthur had smooth and warm skin and since his hair was blond originally, the hair on his arms was almost invisible too... he wasn't too skinny but still slim, the shirt never rounded around his tummy, and his hips were...

Alfred felt his body quiver from the freezing cold again, so he sank in the tub and moved his toes a bit in the warm liquid. For a while he just gazed at the rising level of the pleasingly hot water, feeling the muscles on his legs warm up gradually. He couldn't let his mind wander around his boss, not in the situation he was right now.

To distract himself, he borrowed a bit from Arthur's relaxing shower gel and washed himself to fasten the process, but right in the moment when he thought he'll be alright, he sneezed and nearly hit his head in the edge of the tub.

Dear God, he can't get sick!

He must thank Arthur for his caring and his kindness for letting him use his bathroom... but on the other hand, he was sure Arthur would let use other things from the flat, not just the bathroom... even though in the beginning the Englishman didn't want them to be friends at all, his actions spoke for themselves.

Feeling the cold gradually cease from his fingers and his skin, Alfred rubbed his thighs and his sides a couple of times before spotting the sponge behind the rubber duck. Was it... yes, it was Arthur's sponge. The sponge he washed himself with, the sponge had the privilege to touch Arthur's bare skin.

"Oy!" He snapped himself out of his thoughts one more time. He had a troublesome relationship at the moment, he had a job to attend and a grumpy boss to help, he couldn't just... he couldn't.

**. . .**

The minutes passed in silence as Arthur stared at the shelves of his wardrobe. Alfred's size was bigger than his, his smaller shirts would look not just ridiculous but incredibly... no, not sexy on him, just tight. Alfred wasn't even that good looking, anyways, just an annoying kid who worked at his shop. Now, to prevent his employee to get sick, he had to sacrifice one of his shirts. Alfred would definitely stretch them out.

Arthur bit his index finger in confusion, with one arm still hugging himself to try and give some reassurance of being in control. He could just give the boy that over-sized shirt that he used for sleeping in the summer... but it had a green bunny with adorable wings on it. Alfred would laugh on him for having a t-shirt like that, so he didn't deserve to wear it.

His thoughts were soon distracted by the devil (Alfred), who appeared only in his jeans and one towel put loosely around his shoulders and Arthur felt his cheeks redden when he practically tore his eyes off the other's upper body, even if his chest was covered by the towel. He knew that Alfred was strong and he had obviously worked out before but still wasn't like a body builder... simply well-toned, still it caught Arthur's attention in the way it shouldn't have.

Just as Arthur feared it would happen, Alfred cleared his throat and stepped beside him to look at his wardrobe and after a few seconds he reached in the checked the tags of the size. The smaller blonde felt the warmness radiate from the other's body since obviously he just left the shower, and he just left his body exposed to the cold in the flat but... "These are small," the American clicked with his tongue, unsurely tugging at one shirt.

"I can read myself too, git."

"You must have something bigger."

Arthur's eyes widened at the ambiguous sentence and he immediately slipped under Alfred's arm to escape to the kitchen but Alfred caught him. "Hey, come back! I don't know which to take, do you have a sweatshirt or something? I fine with everything, I just don't want to feel it cut in, you know."

Arthur took a deep breath and forced his face to stay blank, even though he couldn't control the redness of his ears, he turned back and shrugged. "Just take what you like."

"That's the problem, dude, you're full of these old-man clothes."

"If you don't like them, you can stay like that, idiot!"

"Arthur, please!" He couldn't bear this pleading voice but as he looked at the other, closed side of the wardrobe he just averted his eyes on the floor instead. He had bigger clothes, in fact... those were carefully folded and in a place he decided never to open again in his life, to keep it where they belonged... he took a deep breath to calm his thoughts.

Those were Francis' clothes, and now he pulled the door open, with a torn and almost scared frown on his face. He could feel Alfred tense beside him.

None of them spoke for a couple of minutes. Arthur bit the inner sides of his lips, staring at the clothes as if they were to attack him; Alfred bowed his head and closed his eyes, unable to react. He couldn't imagine a situation like this before, openly standing in front of dead memories, objects of a person who was deeply in love with his friend before, the clothes of the man for whom Arthur cried at Christmas.

"No." That was the only thing he could say, and when Arthur looked back at him, hesitant and not understanding him, Alfred closed the door of the wardrobe and took one light green t-shirt, even if it had a green rabbit on it. "This'll be fine."

"That.." Arthur's voice shook a bit before he cleared his throat to be able to speak. "That is my sleeping shirt."

"That'll do," the man decided, pulling the cloth over his head and turned to face his friend, putting both of his hands on his shoulders to call Arthur's attention, but words failed to come out of his lips. He wasn't even sure of what he tried to express, all of his emotions were buzzing in his chest like a blur, saying 'sorry', 'I understand', 'I want to cheer you up', 'please don't feel sad', 'I'm here for you'... and Arthur tried to look in his eyes but instead just stared into nothing beside themselves and tried to hold his composure.

"It's fine," the smaller said before Alfred could actually say anything. "Anyways, we have to go."

**. . .**

Their day, a usual Saturday wasn't especially hard but not easy either; these times the families stayed at home and relaxed but those who didn't have time to buy food had a good opportunity to purchase everything they needed. Arthur sat still behind the counter and listened to Alfred, who seemed to be determined to make him forget about their morning in general; he showed him games and a blogging website on his phone, on YouTube videos and teasers about the newest movies which weren't even in the theatres. The costumers didn't seem to bother with the two, even if sometimes they had to wait a couple of seconds to receive the pay check and the usual, "Thanks for choosing us!" from an annoyingly cheerful boy.

In the afternoon Arthur decided to close at three instead of four, for two different reasons. Firstly; Alfred tried to serve him everything he had, from his lunch break he brought strawberry hot chocolate for him with chocolate biscuits, claiming that Arthur was too thin. He didn't leave him alone until the poor blonde drank and ate it all. The other reason was his friend's attempt to distract him from his thoughts, let them be peaceful, momentary prayer for silence to be able to read from his book, or simply to re-organize the breads on the shelves.

He couldn't deal with this amount of attention.

The moment he closed the door and flipped the little sign from OPEN to CLOSED, Alfred appeared with the broom to clean the floor before Arthur could walk aside so he practically jumped away from Alfred's hasted duty. The older man shook his head and mumbled something beneath his breath which must have been a bit rude and returned to the cash register to finish the day's paperwork. The boy did his job in his best tempo and by the time Arthur was done with the numbers and signatures, Alfred had already changed to his normal clothing (with the flying mint bunny t-shirt) and waited impatiently for him at the doorway to go up the stairs. "Come on, old man, we have some things to do up there!"

"Oh, please, as if your movies could be more important than taxation, "Arthur murmured before stretching his shoulders and getting the keys from his apron. "Alright, I'll be there in a moment but since I didn't have time to go and get the groceries, I don't have any popcorn for you, dear."

Alfred's eyes snapped open and he watched the other man walk beside him, silently gazing his figure disappear in the changing room for a couple of seconds. Did he just...? Did Arthur call him... ah, right the popcorn, but... he just called him 'dear', something precious and... loved?

"It—It's alright." He averted his eyes in embarrassment and bit his lower lip. He didn't want to get this simple display of affection get too much close to him.

"Excuse me?" Arthur's head popped out from the changing room and Alfred could see a cocky grin on his face so he quickly retorted.

"It's alright for your silly self to forget everything!"

"Come on, you can have biscuits. I'll make you some tea again."

"Thanks, but I brought cola this time to save my ass."

"Serves you right. Destroy your organs the best you can."

"I always strive for perfection."

"Even in stupidity?" Arthur shook his head and clicked with his tongue but he walked beside Alfred anyway. He opened the dark-green door and headed up the stairs, being followed by the blabbering American right behind him.

The younger had already started chattering about this movie they were about to watch, and at this point, Arthur could only roll his eyes and wave with his hands in boredom. "I'll see, I'll see."

Just like yesterday, Alfred set up the system in two minutes while Arthur had put a whole plate of biscuits on the table in front of the TV and set the kettle to boil some water. Their conversations stopped and Arthur smiled when he saw Alfred taking up the same posture he was in the other evening, laying on his side and facing the television, leaving enough space for Arthur to join him on the other side of the sofa. Watching the young man hugging his sides in that green shirt and doze off for a couple of minutes, Arthur hummed in contentment and fiddled with his fingers a bit before realizing what he was doing... instead of asking Alfred to talk to him, Arthur jumped back in the kitchen and opened one of his drawers. He must have had chocolate powder somewhere, or... anything sweet. He didn't remember if Francis had bought anything like this back then and his concerns were true; none of his shelves had cocoa or chocolate... he bit his lower lip as shame and worry crept their ways in his mind. He decided to keep guard at the kettle instead of going back to his friend.

Alfred's light snore broke the silence in the flat and this called his thoughts back to reality. He really would have liked to give something to the boy but he seemed to fall asleep? He quickly tiptoed back to the living room and lifted himself on toes to check the dark-blonde's face to see him breathing in and out quietly, his glasses in a wrong angle and his head sank in the pillows. Seeing the man in his own favourite shirt, Arthur crossed his arms and shook his head in affection; now now... how will he watch the movie if the main attraction has fallen asleep? He had brought his blanket to cover the boy's body to keep him warm. After the morning's unfortunate happenings, Alfred shouldn't catch cold in the safest place Arthur could imagine.

So, instead of waking the American, Arthur decided to continue the book they borrowed from the library, at the end of the sofa to feel Alfred's presence but still leaving him enough space. The dark-blonde's snores were quiet but audible enough to remind him from time to time, that around six o'clock he really had to wake him to start the movie. Dear boy, he worked really hard every day from five in the morning till the afternoon. Normally, bakery shops had switches of employees every other day, but in this small institution, only they were in charge of the duties and Arthur couldn't bear any other person at his side than Alfred. It was clear by now.

He didn't realize the time's flow and the clock slowly approached to seven, he heard a louder sigh from Alfred, and the boy turned on his back, pulling the blanket with himself, holding it in his fingers. He saw as the half-asleep man mumbled something between his lips but he couldn't hear it properly. In real, Alfred pulled the scent of his friend closer to himself but when he noticed the blanket's weight on his body, his eyes opened and immediately he looked for Arthur with his eyes. "I fell asleep," he said, his voice still low and a bit raw.

"Captain Obvious has spoken."

"Oh, please," the younger man held back a smile and pulled the blanket up to his face. "I'm sorry..."

"Did you sleep well, at least?" Arthur put his book aside to face the other and slightly turn towards him, watching Alfred stretch his arm and his shoulders before leaning in the sofa again, half-lid eyes falling on the blonde. From that angle Arthur could see the other's chest rising and falling rhythmically while he lifted one of his hands above his head, as if to pull himself up a bit.

"'did. Thanks..." Alfred smiled, but it wasn't an average grin or smirk he shot for the girls at the shop, or just for a joke he just told to him... this was a smile that a full, content and pleased man gave to someone who he cherished and worshipped, and even though Arthur didn't want to tell himself the remaining one emotion's name, he felt it on every little bit of his body as Alfred looked at him.

"I'm glad, then."

"I didn't have a good sleep since... I don't know.." the younger yawned.

"How come?"

"Nah..." the other just waved with his hand carelessly. "Dunno. Around midnight I always wake up, no matter how tired I am." Arthur frowned and turned his face away from the man. How... how? Was this a coincidence... it must have been, or maybe the lad was stressed, while he was just... stuck in an ancient routine, starting from that day two years ago... "I guess if I would be able to solve my problems, I could sleep well again."

Arthur swallowed before facing the other again. "And? Why don't you solve them?"

As predicted, Alfred shrugged but also pouted for a couple of seconds. "I... it's not that easy."

The blonde hummed and smiled in admittance. "Indeed, it isn't the easiest thing to say."

"Well, that's right. I guess," while Alfred shifted and put his elbow on his knees to support himself, Arthur tilted his head on the right and narrowed his eyes.

"If I may ask, is this connected to your partner per chance?" Alfred just hummed as if he had no clue but right after he nodded slowly and clicked his tongue, answering in an obviously unwilling way.

"Yeah, but I think this was to be expected. I mean..." he lifted his palm in a demonstrative way but Arthur couldn't miss how the man laid back a bit and cleared his throat, which betrayed how hesitant he was behind the mask, "I mean, if I was in her shoes I would be the same... alright, maybe not the same but I would give up after one year too."

"One year?" Arthur didn't understand since as far as he knew, Alfred had a longer relationship than...

"Yes, we moved here last year in January, but basically the issue between us started earlier than that. You know... we got together when we both were on the university, and it was quite easy. We liked each other from the beginning, so... everyone said it was expected that we'll get together," the young man chuckled but his eyes carried a bittersweet sense of nostalgia. "She was studying journalism and took courses in IT, that's how we met and somehow we started talking about everything. I took her to movies, long walks, to bookstore, everything she wanted, and in return she was my sweet girl."

"I suppose that's how it goes."

"I loved to see her smile, man." Alfred looked up in the other's eyes and Arthur gave him a weak, but knowing smile in return. "I loved to see her close to me, she was like my other half I needed, and I wanted to make her the happiest girl on the world. I told her that I'll be a fireman, and I'll save people who are in trouble, and this she loved. I remember when I visited her family first and met her dad; she told him around sixteen times that I'll be a fireman. I would... love to be one, still, but sometimes life has different plans with us."

"Indeed. I guess I could tell you about that, too," Alfred nodded in agreement and in that moment when their eyes met, Arthur could see a bond of familiarity in his eyes, just as he felt the same. "I was educated to entirely different things, and suddenly when we arrived to the US, I found myself studying law, finance, taxation and a lot of mathematics."

"Must have been tough for a guy of literature." Alfred gave him thumbs up in appreciation.

"Exactly... back to you, why the cold shoulder?"

The younger man's eyes widened in anticipation and from the sudden urge to explain everything to his friend the fastest he could. "It's because, because I think when we moved here... no, when the university ended and we had to establish our living, we had quite a lot of things to sort at the same time. Her friends moved here and she applied for a workplace here too, so of course I followed her. By that time I..." Al averted his eyes from his friend and bit his lower lip, and this Arthur didn't like at all. It was obvious that the dark-blonde wanted to hold an information from him that was essential... "I had been told that I cannot apply at the firehouse. They have enough office-workers, so to say. So... I am here with my papers and I couldn't help Sandra in anything. I asked my friends to come and join me, but most of them left to Canada or to New York. That, I can understand. I love New York too."

"I believe you do. Beautiful city."

"Once..." Alfred laid back and held his hands behind the nape of his neck as his eyes wandered on the ceiling. "I told Sandra that we'll go for a week in New York and sleep in Plasa hotel." Arthur chuckled at the grandiose dream. "Well, that didn't happen yet, obviously."

"No offense, but I'm not surprised."

"It's alright. So... even if I didn't have much money left, I tried to make her happy the way I could. For half a year..." he paused again and cleared his throat in hesitance "I couldn't do anything else just play video games and be at home, sometimes go out but not for a long time. I didn't know the place at all." He added quickly.

"I can't believe you didn't make friends."

"Well, no workplace, no social interaction with anyone... I couldn't just join a basketball team or something... and if you ask me, I'm not really into those girl-parties... so I started staying at home. I tried to apply to several places in town to work, but I was always rejected for a stupid reason." By that time Arthur was frowning when he deducted the obvious; Alfred was a terrible liar. He really didn't want to tell him something, and Arthur didn't know the right occasion to ask directly.

"Of course, Sandra always told me to keep applying at the firehouse, so probably they would see I really wanted to work there and if they had an empty place for me... but you know how this goes," Arthur nodded and sighed in agreement. "No means no, but my girl wanted her fireman by her side really bad, and I can't do anything. But.. she felt I betrayed and lied to her, because all these years she believed I will just get back in my old shape and get that job. It's not that easy."

"Not just that, I think. If she was working and you were staying at home, that is annoying too. She must have felt that you didn't do anything."

"I know..." the man sighed and shook his head in resignation. "I know... but at that time, I didn't have many choices."

Arthur shook his head and soon told his disagreement, "it's not only that. If someone wants another person to fit his or her ideas, and it doesn't happen, people disappoint in them. They start being cold and they'll hold resentment in their hearts. You disappointed her for reasons you can't be responsible but it doesn't matter."

Alfred bowed his head in sorrow and closed his eyes. He knew well all this... "I know. But I don't think this is the reason for... everything. I tried to make her happy despite all she said to me. I tried to fit her ideas in many other things, Arthur."

"Dear, it's not that easy. You can be Cinderella at home and Einstein in school, but if you don't meet your main expectations, it really doesn't matter. I..." Now, it was his turn to be hesitant. This wasn't going so well, but Arthur knew there was no way to turn around and flee. "I tried. For nineteen years I tried to be the perfect child at home. I had to compete with three brothers, and deny everything I really wanted to have. Even so, I found myself among hate, disappointment and detest. Because, even though I received scholarships to France and won competitions in poetry, history and culture, I couldn't make myself straight. Just because of that, my family didn't care about anything I had accomplished."

For a second Arthur felt his cheeks warm when he saw Alfred's genuinely interested, listening and caring eyes on him. The taller man slightly shook his head when he understood the easy example of being put aside for such a trivial thing as sexuality beside Arthur's personality and his great talents in arts. He couldn't understand those people but as his mind drifted back to Sandra, he hummed in agreement. Even though his trouble wasn't in sexual kinds, it was familiar to him. After the operation, when he was slowly recovering and his heart ever-so-carefully picked the rhythm of life again Sandra was too busy with her new life in town and after Alfred could come home from the hospital, she expected him to jump from bed the very next morning, and seize the day. She didn't seem to care about adapting to Alfred's new condition and how restricted his options were in his daily routine in general.

"I remember when we were jogging, roller skating, bicycling almost every day. She loved swimming too, because she could show off to me and I could too. We were like two idiots we were chasing each other in the water," Alfred chuckled with a wide grin on his face as the memories came back, and Arthur nodded too. Francis and his games on the beach, chasing Arthur with an imitation of a kiss on his lips, knowing well that Arthur hated showing affection publicly? "We played video games together, played pranks on our friends... I remember every time she had an interview with someone out in the city I went with her, and in return she came to my basketball practices. She always brought me cold drinks..." Alfred swallowed hard and stroked the side of his nose as if it was itching. "If I knew how to turn back the time."

"Don't get me started on that..."

"I'm sorry dude, jeez."

"It's alright."

Alfred sighed deeply and bit his lower lip again. "Well. We're different now, and I can see Sandra wants to move on. I know I'm not enough for her anymore. I can only hope she'll find a better guy and be happy. I don't want to hurt her anymore, or be her burden. Even so, I still think I have rights to be a bit colder, too. I wouldn't wish anyone to hear the things she told me already, as if she forgot how much I wanted to reach those dreams too. She acts as if I wanted to throw my life away and sink into desperation when, in fact, all I wanted was to, ahh... " Alfred shook his head dismissively. "I wanted to be something much more, and I won't give up on that."

"And what is 'that', dear?"

Alfred felt a weak, but knowing smile on his lips when he heard Arthur's soft pronunciation. Another endearment...

"All in my life, I wanted to be strong... so when the time comes, I'd be able to stand up and do something for someone important to me. I want to be strong enough to save that person and be able to do everything for her… or for him. I wanted to be invincible but in the end, no matter how hard I studied and worked, it is me who is traversing."

"Strength is not bound to occupation, Alfred, nor to education. It is not the matter of physical attributes or the matters of size. It is merely the heart. Everything transpires in your mind, your decisions and your bravery. It is decided on there, that when the time comes, you'll take your departure and say goodbye. You will feel the right time but you have to know the signs first."

Alfred nodded and sighed as he pushed the _Play_ button on the remote control. Their conversation had cooled down as the dark screen changed into motion and both of them had decided silently to move on with the topic. As the movie's first scene started and Arthur already chuckled at some jokes, he felt his insides calm down, and warm up at the same time. Somehow, looking back on all the things they just said to each other, revealing more of themselves than ever, the younger man felt an incredible amount of gratitude and sudden affection towards his friend. He liked Arthur's calm side... the man was impressively wise and experienced in life, but also in the matters of soul as well...

As the time slowly went on, Alfred found himself gazing at the Englishman with a soft smile on his lips, his eyes taking in every tiny bit of the other that belonged to him. That knitted vest with the light green buttoned-up shirt, that messy blond hair, the eyebrows, green eyes... greener than any field of grass on the globe, deeper than the green of leaves with a small hint of darkness which carried many emotions inside.

Arthur was right. If he was strong inside... he could do anything he wanted in life! He was free inside. Free to have dreams, free to make decisions… free to take the first step...

And just as Arthur said; All he had to do is wait for the time to come.

**Author notes:**

Thank you for RawrGodzilla for helping me with this chapter! :3 Check out her wonderful fan fictions too, she is my senpai and she noticed me I am flattered. *fangirls away in the sunset*

I know this is a very very long chapter and sadly I can't stop myself so from now on you guys will have long chapters, maybe not that long like this... but... we'll see. I hope you like it.

Please tell me your opinions, and if you find something that you don't understand or don't like, do tell me. I would like to improve. Like, oh my god, did Arthur just tell Alfred to stay half naked in the subtext? Who knows?

So, Reviews plox!


	9. Chapter 7 and a third

Arthur liked watching movies with Alfred. It was a pleasant and memorable activity, and always lead to long discussions of the stories and the characters while drawing parallels to the real world's phenomena. Each of them found the other's opinion interesting and sometimes these conversations were continued on the next day, since Alfred never stayed long after the end of the movies and Arthur didn't try to ask him for a couple of more minutes. When Alfred was beside him and Arthur could feel his presence, he knew he didn't have to hold back his thoughts about anything. He wasn't ashamed of them. He could continue his needlework and just hum or chuckle on the jokes while Alfred was explaining him technologies, battles, relationships and deeper, psychological connections on the characters' subconscious too. This, Arthur found curious and if not, particularly attractive. Alfred had a good sense of humour, which accompanied his intelligent and down-to-earth thinking. On the other hand, Arthur was prone over-complicating things and going onto never-ending trains of thoughts over simple things.

The more they got in the movies the longer their conversations became, and Arthur didn't remember exactly why, but every time Loki and Thor were present the at the same time, Alfred stopped the screen and started analyzing the story in a deeper scale, telling how heart-breaking Loki's life was, and in reality, how much he loves his brother. For a while, Arthur couldn't understand the reason for this. When Alfred trailed off from the actual story and told small tales of his life and some detailed information about his little brother, Arthur felt a deep and forgiving connection towards the other person, and the expectation of Alfred from every and all brothers and sisters around the world to be the same loving and forgiving.

He was still a child in his heart; Arthur smiled and turned to continue the pattern on the white linen fabric.

Soon they finished with the Marvel movies, even if it took more than a week (Arthur vehemently denied Alfred's attempt to watch Spiderman so, in the end, they re-watched Thor and the Iron Man films instead). February was knocking on the bakery shop's door, introducing something new for Arthur, which he nearly forgot over the two years he spent in loneliness.

**. . .**

The small white paper was found under the cash register.

Arthur wasn't sure how long it had been lying there, since he only cleaned under the machine just every now and then. He didn't know when Alfred had put it there (since it must have been him, because no one else could). Quickly he unfolded the small piece of paper and found only one word. It echoed in his head for a couple of seconds before he looked up in front of him, snapping back to reality. He served one busy man who just wanted a loaf of "whatever bread that is not white" as he put it, and shook his head when Alfred entered the area, cleaning his hands with the paper-towel. "Yea' man, I know how that feels! My girl doesn't like white bread either, because she thinks she'll get fat from eating it."

"Generally it is flour that makes you put on weight, Alfred." The older muttered under his breath and put the paper in his pocket instead of showing it to him... but the word stuck in his head.

_Sympathy...?_

Of all the words in the world, why did he write _Sympathy_? As far as Arthur was concerned, he thought he was sympathetic enough for getting along with Alfred's company and watching those Hollywood movies which were made for nerdy teenagers. However, putting the easy things aside, he was sympathetic! He had to deal with over approximately one hundred people every single day. They were impatient, frustrated, happy or simply too bored to notice his presence. Most of them didn't even say 'hello' or anything upon arriving and leaving. Above all, he dealt with his loneliness utterly alone and he was doing a great job, watching Alfred, having a relationship and having someone right in front of his eyes, just like seeing and enduring those cheesy couples demonstrating Hollywood sweetness overload sometimes.

He was sympathetic, in this sense. So why?

"Why did you write this?" He asked his friend suddenly when Alfred was cleaning the shelf of the seedless brown buns before reloading it. The dark-blonde didn't know the origin of his question first but when his sky-blue eyes spotted the small piece of paper in Arthur's hands, a small, knowing smile appeared on his lips and he turned back to his work. His employer frowned slightly but when he didn't receive any response from the younger, he turned to walk to the shop's other side through the corridor. He could feel the disinfectant's chemical smell and this made him wince. The smell was strong which proved that Alfred was cleaning the storage again but it was overwhelming and after deciding that anyways some fresh air would do some good for the shop, Arthur opened the door on the back of the building.

This little backside place was a secluded place from the bigger streets but it wasn't as calm as it should have been. They held the unused boxes there in a stock and they brought the trash there as well. The other residents around them had put the cars there for the nights but since Arthur and Francis didn't have car, they could use that small square of the house to store everything they didn't need. Sometimes Alfred came here to smoke because Arthur asked him not to do it in front of the shop. He didn't want the customers see that his employee was smoking, it could mean harm for their reputation.

Now he was the one who needed some fresh air but watching those empty and used boxes didn't help much. _Sympathy?_

"I thought I was pretty good in that." He mumbled under his breath and put his hands in the pockets of his brown trousers. He didn't like thinking of how Alfred had meant this word on the paper, and he decided to check its meaning in the Oxford English dictionary right after closing. If he misinterpreted something, that might cause some trouble. Maybe this was why Alfred hasn't told him anything, just gave him that knowing smile.

In the back of his mind he heard the front door's closing and the sounds of keys being used. Their lunch break has begun now but this time Alfred chose to stay with him in the shop, and brought a decent sized sandwich with lots of vegetables for himself. When he joined him in viewing the sky above Providence, Arthur crossed his arms and cleared his throat in a signifying way. "No rubbish food this time?"

"Nah, I need to save up." The younger still had a calm smile on his lips and soon Arthur felt that the way Alfred looked up on the sky and watched the clouds carried a curious friendliness and harmony that was seen on him, only when it was just them.

"And what are you saving up for?" He couldn't hide his stillness either; watching Alfred eating peacefully made his insides quite down as well. Alfred told him to be sympathetic by that piece of paper, or rather rediscover the feeling. He still had to look up all possible meanings in the Webster's dictionary.

His train of thoughts was soon interrupted by a soft and high sound and when he focused and looked in the small area between the houses he spotted a big, furry animal, sitting on one of the trash bins around ten yards from them. Of course the Englishman knit his brows and took a deep breath while Alfred waved to the creature and squatted down.

"What on earth are you doing, Alfred?" He asked his employee in a certainly frustrated way; getting a stray animal to a store of food would be a fatal mistake in their case but the younger shrugged him off.

"I'll give him his lunch."

"Wait, it's waiting for you?" Arthur's eyes widened in surprise and in disbelief; he looked at the animal once again as it made its way to get closer to them, carefully but still with a hint of elegance in its movements. The blonde crossed his arms and bent down to talk into his friend's ear. "Answer me, you git."

"Yes, it is, officer. I've been giving food to him for weeks, now he comes by himself."

Arthur held back his sudden urge to throttle the boy. "You are... feeding a stray animal at my bakery shop, Alfred?"

"Yeah, look at him. He's so skinny... "Alfred seemed to frown for a couple of seconds then he looked up on Arthur just to correct him, "and he is a cat if you haven't noticed it yet."

"It doesn't matter what kind of a bloody animal it is! Get it away from the shop right now!" Commanded the other with reasonable nervousness on his face.

"Dude, I'm just giving food to it. Take a chill pill okay?" The younger lifted his hands to his chest in apology but Arthur just chuckled in irony, caressing his temples to express his frustration. His friend really didn't understand the situation, wasn't he? If they get reported for having an animal at the shop, the charge, the police, the FDA...

"You don't know what you are doing," he grumbled and took a deep breath to calm himself, "and you are telling me that this cat has been seeing the shop for weeks? Alfred, do you know what you are doing to me-to yourself right now? You are feeding a stray cat at my shop, and if once it decided to come in, we will be closed for eternity! The food is right over there, it's... I don't know, about a ten foot distance and we keep the disinfectants on the other side too! What if someone sees us? Wash your hands right now, go to the sink!"

"Arthu—"

"I'm not listening to this childishness, Alfred!" The Englishman grabbed the younger and pulled him up to push him towards the corridor, even though he heard a sad and almost squalling cat meowing for his lost friend. He had to get Alfred's hands pure and clean at the very moment and the boy soon gave up, he took the soap with a torn and wounded expression while Arthur opened the slap and set it to be hand-warm. "Look at that cat, it is so dirty and its fur is missing on the left side of its head. It must have scabs or fleas. I don't even want to know where sleeps or spends the rest of its day. Look at the paws; they are covered in mud till the middle, and the tail? What if it invite its friends over here, and we have around five or more stray cats making a parade at the back of the shop? Would you be glad?"

He didn't get any answer. Alfred was silent, his lips were shut and held tight to each other in a straight line as he washed his fingers and his palm, but his eyes were telling everything he couldn't coin in words. Arthur decided to ossify his heart against those reasons of an innocent boy, but when Alfred looked him in the eye and he was stern, disappointed and hurt, Arthur hummed and felt his insides soften. They were standing in the small bathroom of the back-rooms and there was no one around to see what they were doing. Usually Alfred was away for ten minutes to buy his lunch, and Arthur never understood why but after the boy watched him eating and they finished their food together, he really had disappeared for some minutes in the back of the shop, indeed. And he, the naive and trusting employer had thought that the man went to the toilet or to smoke...? He didn't pay enough attention.

Alfred stepped beside him to walk away and before Arthur could realize where the boy was going, he was already with the cat once again. The blonde frowned, experiencing disobedience from Alfred was the very first time, and why did it have to be like that?

"I'm sorry, little one. He is just as judgemental as others would be." The cat meowed again.

Judgemental...? Arthur averted his eyes from the boy. He was feeding the animal with ham he picked from his sandwich. Had Arthur been judgemental because he has seen a stray animal that could mean harm to his shop? He didn't know how to cope with this situation at all, he looked around as if it would call help from the gods but the empty walls and the closed door stared back at him with a blank expression, and Arthur couldn't do anything but remember what Francis would tell him to do.

The memory made him stuck on his place. His mind had pushed him back from his posture but he managed to get a hold on the wall to stabilize him enough. Francis had been all over here, he walked back and forth, he gave gifts to the children at Christmas... he smiled back at him, tilted his head a little bit on the right before chuckling and telling him to keep an eye on the cash register instead of staring him all day. He always dirtied his apron but Arthur always forgave him for that, because he was always by his side. He wanted to have a cat later, when their life will settle enough.

Francis' scent lingered in his nose before Arthur hugged his sides and kept his eyes shut tightly. Seeing the door facing the backyard, the blonde could almost swear he saw his silhouette appear; leaning to the doorway with crossed arms and simply stare out on the sky. Francis was still here. Every breath he took, he did it with him. Every day he lived, he did it with Francis. All he has said, he had been told were in his heart, in his mind and Arthur remembered when they opened the place and his love was far beyond happiness, he held his hand tightly and smiled. This is the spot which will give us a place to return to. This will be our shelter, Arthur. We will be here and this very simple place will give home for us.

"Arthur?"

He heard the calling, but the voice was so different. Young, charismatic, caring, and as he looked up and saw Alfred standing on the threshold, his sudden heartbeat sent shivers up his spine. The younger man stood in concern and held the remaining pieces of his sandwich in his hand. The cat had stood at his feet, looking in the building but not directly at Arthur, still he could feel the animal's attention as well.

"I guess that's true. I am judgemental at times." He had to shake his head slowly in affection when he realized once more, just how naive and childish Alfred was in his constant will to help everyone that came into his way. No matter how old he was, Alfred still gave his food to a stray cat and disobeyed his boss to keep his habit of doing so, while he of all people, managed to hurt his feelings. After all, during these discussions they had before... he knew how sensitive Alfred tended to be at times... "I'm sorry, Alfred," he said at last, blinking and swallowing after. "I'm sorry. If you keep it strictly out of the door, you can feed it."

The American nodded and turned to the cat to tell him something and finally, Arthur could see a small light of delight in his eyes. If Alfred found peace in feeding stray animals then... so be it.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Author's Notes:

I decided to divide the chapter into two parts, I'll be uploading the second soon.

I'm terribly sorry for the wait, guys, it's only me to blame. Thank you for reading, and still being around!

Tell me your opinions! Reviews are welcomed and appreciated like always! : 3


	10. Chapter 7 and a fourth

Something was up with Alfred. He sensed it, but he couldn't tell what it was exactly. He has looked into the man's papers and he found some Latin expressions on his physical check but nothing special. The doctor's signature and the explanation said Alfred is alright. Yet, Arthur simply _knew_ something was wrong or at least strange and the younger one simply refused to tell him for some reason. That was certainly unacceptable, but he couldn't just ask his friend about his condition. It wouldn't be appropriate.

He decided to watch Alfred, even though this caused a couple of awkward situations when Alfred just stared back at him, uncertainty and embarrassment in his eyes. Indeed, watching someone with narrowed eyes suspiciously when he is doing the washing up or packing breads and buns... but Arthur just frowned and kept his chin up as he walked back behind the counter and crossed his arms.

Even though his little investigation was ended shortly after the start and he failed terribly, Arthur didn't feel resentment. At all.

"_I'll find it out, God help me, and I'll find it out."_ He grumbled inside, watching Alfred carefully as the man played games on his smart phone, concentrating so hard that he stick his tongue out of his lips and bit on the tip. It looked ironically childish and serious at the same time, but as the time went by and Arthur measured his employee once again, he could actually see signs that he missed... until now.

Firstly, his clothes seemed to be different, even though Arthur had seen that pair of jeans and that Converse hundreds of times, they looked more worn out than before. He could see that the linen of the jeans was not ironed and the Converse wasn't cleaned that often as it used to be. As Arthur had recalled, Alfred wore button-up shirts when he felt uplifted or when he woke with a good feeling in the morning, and he wore simple tees when he arrived whether with a frown on his face or simply just relieved to arrive to work. In the last couple of weeks he hasn't seen any button-up shirts. Just plain white t-shirts which haven't been ironed properly (they were rumpled on their back and on the sides), but Alfred himself seemed a bit dreamy too. He kept his routine in his work, but it was very different from the beginning.

Even though he kept bringing Arthur chocolate muffins or donuts to keep his "daily chocolate input" as he called it, Alfred seemed bored when Arthur was doing his needlework and he couldn't stay sitting longer than five minutes. This caused a little nervousness in the shop's atmosphere, since the shopping and the backside area wasn't large enough to contain or handle Alfred's frustration. He smoked more and therefore, spent longer time outside.

Arthur could feel it with his refined senses that something was going wrong.

Asking the American sounded like pouring a storm on himself; he could see on the boy that at times he really, really wanted to ask him questions or his opinion about some thought he couldn't deal with, but the taller blonde just waved and dismissed the whole conversation. Arthur didn't like this. He liked the Alfred he hired; the energetic, open and kind-hearted man, not the one who thought, dealing with problems alone would make sense. He liked when Alfred asked him questions about books, culture and mysterious tales, he liked his curious attitude towards science, and the way he explained it to him.

Arthur felt disappointed and somehow obliged to intervene when Alfred resignedly told him, he couldn't come to the tea house on Wednesday.

_**. . .**_

"No." He said. Clearly and confidently. He could see Alfred's surprise and the man averted his eyes.

"I—I'm sorry Arthur, you know I do."

"I can't let you go like this."

Alfred opened his mouth to say something in denial but he paused and stayed silent instead. He sighed but it was so exhausted and resigned that Arthur just grew stronger in resistance to accept the whole situation. Alfred promised that on this Wednesday he would bring his favourite book with himself and Arthur would bring his, to discuss the deeper meanings of each pieces of literature, even if for Arthur this means long hours of listening to past relationships of Batman or Hawkeye the archer.

"I'm sorry but I cannot stay with you today for more. Sandra's friends are coming over and she asked me to help with cleaning and making the dinner."

This wasn't making anything better; Arthur thought and pouted even though this was Alfred's habit first. "I guess I have no other choice than accepting this."

"We can go on Friday, Arthur. I... I will take you on Friday. I promise."

But Friday, even though Arthur knew it was Alfred's favourite day meant that after the week both of them were tired but somehow relieved that Saturday would be shorter in the hours of work. Arthur agreed on meeting on Friday, at least he didn't have better idea to do. Even though, Alfred's excuse sounded a bit weird.

He even made his research for that evening. He switched on his good old laptop to read articles about Batman's relationships with other characters and found it rather curious and odd that the creator made him a little bit queer. Arthur found himself interested in the confirmed bachelor's set of mind; chasing justice from revenge would seem cliché in the beginning but as the villains appeared and Arthur couldn't stop but read their backgrounds too, he could raise a couple of question for Alfred. The taller boy would definitely know the answers. And Arthur would really like him to have a good time.

On Thursday and Friday though, Alfred smiled even less than before and Arthur was worried about him. He gave him his donut instead and made two cups of tea but none of them helped. Their whole day was spent in silence and Arthur had to admit, he liked Alfred's never-ending chirping more than this frozen space. The cat feeding was spent in that hard silence. The man was sighing, humming in himself and hang on his smart phone all day, typing and checking it in almost every half an hour if not more often.

When the closing time finally came and Arthur flipped the sign from Open to Closed, Alfred yawned and walked for the mop to clean up the shopping area as he always did but his movements were careworn and exhausted. Something was really not going well. Arthur was inpatient to finish his paperwork after the day because once again, Alfred went out to smoke. He couldn't even count for how many times?

Once the man was inside again and Arthur signed and filled all the things he had to on the documents, he decided to cut this miserable tension and ask the matter but before he could actually speak to his friend, Alfred appeared with his jacket and his backpack, ready to go. It seemed he didn't want to spend more time in there so Arthur agreed, it would be better to start the rather personal conversation (if Alfred allowed him to know his issues of course) in the tea house, not on the way there.

It didn't take much time for them to arrive; that day they arrived to the bus stop at the perfect time and in ten minutes they could sit down on their usual places. The tea house held a reading night that evening and the lights were oriented towards the gallery in the back, but in the corridor and in the small cubicles they had little candles to give enough light. Arthur liked this faintly lit aura of the place this time, it created a profound and intimate air once they were settled. Alfred put his jacket and his backpack aside and laid back on the bean bag chair to find a comfortable position while Arthur placed his coat on the fang on the wall. Before sitting down, he stroked the rumbles from his light-green shirt and sighed, barely able to avoid Alfred's look in him.

The silence was unbearable between them. Alfred was fidgeting on his place, and finally when Arthur put the booklet of tea types down, he looked straight in his eyes. "Tell me. I can see it on you."

The man sighed and slightly trembled but Arthur thought it is just exhaustion; Alfred looked at the ground instead, his lips barely moving as he spoke. "I'm in trouble."

"Are you?"

"You can guess..." The younger man wiped his left eye under the steel frame of his glasses before yawning. "I just poured the living hell on myself, the other day."

"When you had guests?"

"No, on Monday. It seems we are really on the edge, Arthur," the American shook his head in a resigned way but looked back in his friend's eyes again. "I mean, with Sandra. I planned to... talk to her this weekend."

Arthur hummed and averted his eyes from the figure of his friend; he couldn't look in his eyes for more for now. Seeing him in such a state was harder than Arthur would have thought earlier; the way Alfred looked back at him, the sadness and gloomy nervousness in his deep, cerulean eyes was unbearably heavy. Arthur decided to clear his throat before speaking, giving more time to himself as well because he could only hope to be able to help Alfred in such situation.

"I had been watching you for a while, Alfred. I could tell you're quite down, but..."

"No, it's not only that. This time of the year is hard for me."

Arthur stopped at that. For a couple of seconds Alfred was still as well but his sudden seriousness scared Arthur; he had never seen Alfred like this before even though he had seen him in gloomy moods... this was different from all. The younger man didn't move but he was still careful not to look in his friend's eyes and chew his lower lip in nervousness. His posture was also showing how frustrated he was; his shoulders were stiff and he kept his hands in his lap as if hugging his sides, looking for comfort. He looked so small and vulnerable, Arthur couldn't stand to just sit there and watch him suffer under the weight of something terrible but at that moment he didn't see any opportunity to get closer to him.

"This is... this happened last year, in the end of January and even though I thought I could deal with it, it seems I'm really messed up. I thought you'd understand. I planned to tell this later but it seems... I will not wait more."

Arthur felt as his cheeks whitened and his eyes opened wide; he didn't want Alfred to finish this. He didn't want to hear what pain he had inside that he couldn't deal with, if he didn't know how to, if he wasn't strong enough... how could he of all people, help him? Alfred Jones? He didn't want Alfred to feel pain... to feel such pain he couldn't help.

He couldn't stop him from saying it, he heard as the dark-blonde formed the words with his lips and pronounced them; he had to close his eyes when the meaning struck him. Alfred knew it very well, he reached out and took his fingers in his hand to give him reassurance but by that he forced him to look in his eyes. Those cerulean eyes that told thousand words more than his actual sentences now burnt the insides of the other; their depth and magnificent shade of grief shone dimly in the gloomy lit place. The noises of the outside, the music coming from the hidden speakers and the place became shut for them in the minute Arthur's fingers tightened around Alfred's hold.

"Last year my father died, Arthur." He said on a quiet voice, keeping Arthur's gaze locked with his own, knowing well that he didn't need to explain the rest.

_... and it was too much._

"He was the Hero of my life."

_... and he is gone._

"He died in a car accident."

_... and disappeared forever._

"My mother has a very hard time at home, but it makes her glad that her sons are doing something with their lives... I—I can't let her down."

..._and this means giving up my pride._

"Even if I can't deal with my father's loss, I was supposed to stand up again and continue my life. You could do it, Arthur."

The Englishman had to cover his eyes with his other hand's fingers to hide his sorrowful expression from his friend. This was absolutely unexpected... Of course he couldn't guess it himself, and now it all made sense why the man was sad for days... having troubles with his relationship and planning to break up after more than three years, and the memorable date passing in the calendar caught him harder than he himself expected. He knew this feeling well enough to feel sympathy with his dear friend...

"Please forgive me for my weak performance in the shop. I know you were worried about me. Hopefully I'll get better soon... I'll just... probably have to rest."

"If you want to go home, I'll give you free days too." Arthur never heard his voice so weak before, it was like a soft whisper that reached only Alfred but the man shook his head in disagreement.

"I don't want to go away from here. Honestly, I would have liked to ask you to stay at your place for tonight but it is a reading night so maybe we'll hear some good poems."

"Alfred..." Arthur squeezed the hand that held his palm gently, now Alfred looked back at him again, dreamy, forced attention in his eyes. "If you want to tell me something... not like I can do much, but..."

"Well, ahh—I guess everyone has secrets, right...?" He seemed to feel better at this, a small smile hid on his lips as he curved them. "I think this is enough for tonight, but... let me tell you, you are amazing in dealing with..." he paused and averted his eyes for the split of the second, pretending that he couldn't find the right word, "grief."

At this, Arthur had to chuckle ironically, mainly about himself. "I disagree, dear... I can be called old, book-worm or a horrible cook but one thing is sure, I'm not good at dealing with my own feelings."

_**. . .**_

Once their cups were delivered, Arthur asked the waitress to bring them some biscuits while Alfred managed to push the bean bags closer and the table to one side of the wall, allowing them to sit on the floor with their legs stretched, leaning their backs on the pillows. Quite comfortable and a bit too close, Arthur had thought first but when he found the perfect posture right beside Alfred, feeling the warmness of his teacup in his hands, he felt settled and safe. Even though this was far more intimate than Arthur believed it should be, he couldn't resist feeling his friend's skin touch his on his legs and his shoulder. The dark-blonde cleared his throat and pulled his left knee up to put his elbow to rest on it. The minute they got their sweets and the waitress offered them to bring more pillows if needed, Alfred felt a content and warm smile curl on his lips. He was with Arthur, and Arthur was beside him, their elbows met on the right side and Alfred could have sworn that he could just entwine their fingers and his friend wouldn't pull away. For a second he frowned though; doing such thing wasn't so appropriate and they were in public, but...

The Englishman interrupted him before he could have done anything. "Thank you, Alfred."

The younger hummed and nodded before turning his head to answer quietly in the other's ear, "I'm grateful to you too."

He was smiling by then. That warmness, that sparkling little flame in his chest danced cheerfully and he couldn't help but look on Arthur once more. The smaller man with his messy blond hair and his incredibly green eyes was now sipping his tea, held by his tender and warm hands. He looked fragile and pure at the same time, even though Alfred knew very well, how strong and fierce he was on the inside. There was no doubt in the fact that Arthur was much wiser than he showed it on the surface and he could deal with nearly everything... danger from the outside couldn't harm Arthur Kirkland. And he loved how grand his friend was.

"You're silent again. Did you bring your book, Alfred?"

"Oh, yea, sorry." He completely forgot about the time and the activity they agreed on; he pulled his backpack to himself with the help of his foot rather than getting up from that cosy and warm posture, before opening it and grabbing the object into his hands. The sight made Arthur's eyes open in awe and appreciation.

"Wow, I'm flattered to see actual literature in your hands, Alfred."

The man pouted and narrowed his eyes with a pretended anger, he puffed his cheeks but instead of saying anything in return, he handed the book into Arthur's hands. The man opened it with an appreciative smile on his lips and checked the marked pages where Alfred signed his favourite parts. "Nice, I can understand why you marked this part."

The actual moment just reached Alfred's conscious. Arthur knew... Mass Effect? Arthur read sci-fi? Isn't this supposed to be a nerdy stuff?

"You know Mass Effect?"

"I'm not _that_ old."

"Really, how old are you?"

For that he got a knowing and teacher-like 'I know how you mean this' look and he tried to shrug it off but he couldn't help it; sometimes he couldn't tell if Arthur was over thirty-five or younger than thirty, he was the kind of person whose age depended on his moods mainly; if he smiled Alfred could have sworn he looked around twenty but when he frowned and had a bad day, he resembled Alfred's grumpy old grandfather who was ranting on nearly everything, starting with the cold weather of Rochester compared to those warm sunny days back in the South...

His mind drifted back to his friend's eyes and to his expression when he saw how silent he fell in the next moment. The blonde stroke the stray mops of hair of his forehead before clearing his throat.

"I'm twenty-seven."

Alfred couldn't help but let his jaw fall in amazement and his eyes widened. Twenty-seven?! Only three years older than him?

"You are so young, Arthur!"

"Yeah, I know you'd be impressed!" The Englishman snorted and hit him lightly by his left hand, but it wasn't a big deal, he didn't really feel it, but he could tell Arthur became offended by the fact that Alfred thought he is much older.

"You're saying you're old all the time!"

"Because I lived through many things doesn't mean I'm old in my body, thank you very much!"

At that, Alfred only chuckled and shook his head in disbelief. "But you agree that you call yourself old, right? This isn't very nice, and see, you are quite up-to date!"

Oh boy. That didn't help at all, judging from the glare he got from the already sulking man. Arthur hummed and hugged his sides to turn away from his friend and Alfred did everything he could to try and save their conversation.

"I—I mean you know pretty much about sci-fi and in this topic you have to follow the different games and stories and movies, this isn't easy for anyone who likes it! I follow blogs and forums beside the games and I buy their books to understand it better, you read it already too! I think you are pretty amazing at that, maybe... maybe you could show me things even I don't know!"

"You say this as if it would be hard to be smarter than you."

"Well, it is a challenge, certainly."

Arthur rolled his eyes and bit the inner sides of his cheeks to hold his laughter inside, "alright, I have to admit it started from watching Star Wars. I love it but I didn't understand many things so I started reading things on the internet, like Asimov and friends... and it lead to Mass Effect and Crysis in the present days. Sadly I haven't played any of them. I don't have Playstation or a good laptop either, so I read their stories in a novel-format."

"This is... awesome." This was all Alfred could say, his eyes glued on Arthur's face. "Awesome. Please tell me more about the things you like."

Arthur felt his cheeks redden and heat up but he didn't understand why. Alfred's attention was focused on him, the man was looking at him, _only_ him and no one else could interrupt them... this was different from all discussions than before somehow. The younger was close to him, he could feel his warmth radiate from his body and he turned towards him, his hand on own legs but it was obviously uncomfortable to hold it there, he could just put it on Arthur's thighs but it would be too much... The faintly lit cubicle could hide his blushing but Alfred still could see his hesitance and how he bit on his lower lip. "I guess... I like philosophy, and literature as I said... I like several genres."

"Yep?" Alfred was so curious and in that so endearing that Arthur had to hide his smile.

"I like writing poems sometimes, read articles on the internet when my laptop decides to function... I like looking for patterns for my embroidery. You already know that I like walking too."

"Yeah, you're good at that."

"Good at walking?" Arthur frowned at such a weird compliment and looked back on his friend who just shrugged.

"Yes, you know I bumped into people a lot."

The Englishman rolled his eyes before replying, "That's because you never pay attention."

"You and your stories, that's why." The younger chuckled and leant back on his bean bag chair to stretch his arms behind his neck and just let them fall on the huge pillow.

"So... it's me to blame?"

"Of course." For a couple of seconds Arthur frowned but when he looked on his friend's face and saw his cheerful smile on his lips, he smiled as well.

"You git."

Both of them stayed in silence for a while and even though it was still comfortable and cosy just to be around each other, Arthur couldn't tell why they stopped talking. Alfred let his head fall back and he just relaxed like that, his huge cup of milk-shake slowly warming up in his hand while Arthur closed his eyes too, to listen to the actual poet's reading. In a couple of minutes they heard the applause of the audience and Arthur smiled, nodding in appreciation to the poet. He didn't know who she was, but her poem was not about simple aging and growing old beside the love of her life, but talking about the past too, ruling their lives and giving them directions without them noticing it. He loved literature. The way it taught huge masses around the world. The way it carried signs and meaning, educating and helping those who listened.

Alfred listened to him.

Arthur felt as the worry and sadness crept their way into his thoughts and he turned towards his friend, and took the glass out of his fingers, without getting any resistance in return. Alfred was awake but he didn't move until Arthur told him to look at him but even that he did slowly and in such a careworn, exhausted way that the smaller blonde sighed resignedly. "Alfred, you have to cope with it."

"Tell me about it, Arthur."

The Englishman sighed and let his eyes fall on the ground for a couple of moments before nodding. Alfred's father died and the boy carried this pain in his chest, which ached more in this time of the year... must be the anniversary; it hits him hard as well. This year will be the second for Arthur, for Alfred the first.

"Tell me, how?"

"Talk about him, Alfred. Introduce him to me."

"Samuel Franklin Jones, retired fireman... two children, wife... nice house with a pup, in the suburbs. He loved soccer and basketball, he liked fishing and he wanted to move to Canada for his grandchildren."

"Good." Arthur nodded again but didn't look on his friend's face; knowing from his own example, he didn't want Alfred to feel exposed in such moments, it was enough to force him remember and say these things out, everything in past tense. One never knows how piercing it can be, only by experience.

"He could play the guitar. He told me to start playing it too. For my sixteenth birthday I got my Fender Stratocaster from him, I have it at home. He told me to start playing basketball and I was in the university team too. He told my brother to get into history and he is a history teacher now and loves it... my Dad was the one who started to bring the family together again with the cousins and grandparents. He was a good man. He died... too soon."

Arthur saw his friend take off his glasses and wipe his left eye with his fingers before replacing the steel-framed accessory. His voice was trembling but he held his composure and even looked straight in Arthur's eyes once again. "It was an accident. He was driving home and he was turning right at a crossroad and the other person ran through the red light and crashed into his little Lexus. The car rolled over, hit a tree and Dad was unconscious. I... I was on the campus and it took a lot of time to go to the hospital but Mom was outside already. He managed to see my Mom once more but when I went in to see him..." he shook his head slowly and Arthur straightened up, frowning. He knew that look. He knew the way Alfred stared in front of him, in the nothing, in the motionless space which flipped thousands of pictures and voices in his mind right then, making every little second alive once more. The pain, the shock, the absence.

"Alfred," the blonde took his hand into his and squeezed it, forcing his friend to focus rather on him. "You have to understand what happened there."

"How?!" The younger's almost desperate voice made Arthur shut his eyes and take a sharp breath in. "How to do that?"

"You need to talk about it and analyse it if you need that... or you can accept it as a fact and... just let it be."

"I can't let it be, he was my father!"

"And Francis was my fiancé," Arthur whispered, looking stern in Alfred's eyes, holding his gaze and never letting it stray away. "He was my bloody fiancé. And I'm here, I'm standing up again, because I have help. Dealing with loss alone is a very bad decision; I'm the living proof, Alfred. Listen, hey!" The American squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head but by then Arthur rose on his knees and held his friend's cheeks in his palms, asking him to pay attention just for a little more. "Listen to me. I don't ask anything more, then... don't run away from it. Absence is not something you can just toss away, it will haunt you until you don't find the key to solve it!"

"And then? What will you do? Forget about it?"

"No, I will never forget."

"Arthur..."

"You will never forget, you'll just learn how to move on. Death is not the end, Alfred, it doesn't wipe the people away. Death is just how people transform, and they will live as memories in your heart. You remember your Dad, you hear his voice when you want to, right?" For a couple of seconds the boy stared in front of him again but moved a little closer and nodded. Arthur felt his heart clench as he thought of his time alone in the nights without Francis but now... he didn't want to cry. His throat didn't tighten, he could swallow and look in his friend's eyes in positive confidence and caress the stray hair of his eyes. "You see his face, feel his scent if you want to. His teachings, his principles are in your heart and his habits and traditions in your soul. You remember him, his trace is right in the core of you. Here."

He placed his palm on the place of Alfred's heart and he felt the man's rushing heartbeat for some moments before he sat back on his heels and released him, "there is no such thing as death, Alfred, only change."

"I get that, but this won't give him back to me, ever. I'll never see him again, just on pictures, and it will always hurt, right?"

The blonde's soft smile helped Alfred to calm his thoughts but his friend's words brought tears of bitterness into his eyes.

"After some time it will not. You'll learn to look at pictures... like they carry him, and they carry the past you too." The older man caressed the uncontrollable mop of hair on Alfred's forehead before returning his eyes to meet his gaze.

"This doesn't make any sense, Arthur."

"Okay let me explain it the other way around." Alfred's eyes opened in surprise and for some moments he wondered how Arthur could turn this circle around but he doubted if the Brit would come up with clichés so while the other sat back on his knees but took Alfred's hand into his and held it tight, the dark-blonde took a deep, calming breath and cleared his mind momentarily for the new information. "I'll try not to preach and come with my example all the time, but... one thing is sure, you miss your Dad and I miss Francis. We miss them, there is a lack and we feel it can only be them who can be supplements of their roles in our lives. For sure, there'll never be one more Mr. Jones, and one more Francis but listen, listen—"

"I get that he doesn't want me to feel sad, that thing I know! I can't help it! And here is this relationship on my neck and it was only me who wanted to fix it the whole time?!"

"Don't change the topic, Alfred! The absence you feel, is just a consequence. I have thought and read about this enough to know. This is what I feel too. It is the consequence of the other person who left, and it is you who remains. This absence functions only in a single direction, expressed by you, who stays, and it is never expressed by the one who leaves. You have to be aware of a trouble at every second, that there _is_ a confrontation, an always present _you_, and an always absent one, who is not there anymore, he doesn't think of this trouble at all because he is not here. But you are, and this is what counts."

The dark-blonde man sat in silence for some minutes before he spoke again. One thing was sure, Arthur flipped the coin to the other side and now, for some reason, Alfred could observe his own emotions from the distance he never experienced before. Being angry at God for taking his Dad away caused only pain and disappointment, and he couldn't see it the way Arthur have, all the way down here? But... Arthur cried too. At Christmas... and before that, Alfred had seen him moved and sensitive because of the memories... and now the Englishman sat in front of him, almost glowing in the semi-darkness and helping him, telling him how he dealt with his immense pain and loss. Even in that, Arthur was wiser and oh, so strong.

"How can you be that... brave and... strong?"

Alfred could see the soft and comforting smile appear on his friend's lips as he reached out to take his tender fingers in his hands, not looking in his eyes when he spoke, quietly, gently, almost soothing. "I'm not brave, not strong, Alfred. I'm doing, what you have done to me. I think, this is why friends are for, right?"

"Even though you are a grumpy old man, and my boss, you are my best friend, Arthur. The best I ever had."

"Oh, then you should appreciate this friend better."

"What do you mean?" The younger frowned in worry.

"Get me more biscuits."

"Ah. Right. But... maybe we should get back to the books..."

"Only if you wish. If you would like to talk about your Dad then it's good too, but don't push yourself either."

"I'll be good. Now I understand this thing a bit better, I'll think about it when I get home. You're awesome, Arthur. Really."

"No, it was Roland Barthes, actually... not me..."

Alfred was utterly snapped out of his thoughts when he heard that name he was supposed to recognise, but he couldn't. He stared at his friend for a while, a weird and funny frown and discomfort on his face as if he tried to read Arthur's eyes but he could not and the Brit raised an eyebrow in confusion too. "Your face is creepy, Al."

"I know. I heard that name before."

"Roland Barthes is a philosopher. This... little thing I paraphrased was from one of his teachings. I read it in a critique about Marina Carr."

"And she's another philosopher?"

"No, she is an Irish playwright. "

"Ah. Okay. Something like Yeats?"

"Well..." Arthur pouted and stroked his jaw in dilemma but in the end he shook his head. "No, Carr's plays are different. More focused, if you ask me."

"Yea, Yeats was a bit tough for me... but the badass is Beckett. You know, we had this little inside-joke when we were waiting for our drama teacher on the corridor, that if someone asked us what we were doing there, we just said, we're waiting for Godot... and it was right, our teacher loved to be late and blame it on her Italian nationality. My other schoolmate was almost offended by that because he was Italian and he was always punctual." The dark-blonde chuckled and looked on his friend again, making him more space with his arm so Arthur could lean back on the bean bag again and relax, close to his friend.

. . . . . . . . . . . . .

Author's Notes: Well!

Thank you for your patience. I'm incredibly happy if you are still reading. I would like to apologize for the long wait, my life is a mess right now. u.u

Tell me your opinions, I'm curious of what you think!

Special thanks to RawrGodzirra, Happytomeetchu and oliverolivine for being beside me the whole time :3


	11. Chapter 8

The air outside was chilly and cold, even though it was February already... by the time he arrived home, the horizon was dark and spotted with thousands of shiny sparks even though Arthur didn't care to wonder what sentiments they could have brought to his mind normally. If it was another evening. He quickly opened the door but as he stepped in the silent and still air, suddenly all that surrounded him slowed down in time and motion as if someone pushed a button to let his mind wander around the evening and all that happened to him in the tea house. His gaze stilled in the empty space and the forest green eyes stared numbly for long moments.

As slowly as the realization formed in his mind, that there was a chance of change, a change which would finally mean a tiny spark of a brighter future in his life, Arthur closed the door behind himself. For a couple of moments the whole idea seemed so clear, almost tangible until he looked up on the ceiling and spotted the small, weak light bulb. It was supposed to light the staircase which led up to his flat but since the bulb was heavily surrounded by cobwebs and lots of dust, it barely gave enough light, just a dim view of the steps. He should change it soon... but by the time he lingered on the surprising ideas that he had in mind, the whole seemed foolish and just a waste of hope. He had better things to do... like changing a light bulb on the corridor so he wouldn't fall on his face.

The flat was still and quiet just like he left it in the morning but this wasn't always like that. He flipped the lights on before taking his jacket and shoes off accompanied by his tired sighs, and then walked to the kitchen to open the fridge and seek some edible food in there. He didn't want to cook, he bitterly grimaced when he thought about the whole stuff; he just wanted to sit down on the couch and probably read something, spend the evening in peace and quietness... but when he prepared to do this his mind protested for some reason in a very annoying way; even though he read the sentences twice or three times, he couldn't get the meaning of the phrases. The words didn't reach his conscious which made Arthur make an annoyed face and sigh tiredly before lying down on the couch and cover his face with his hands.

He found himself quite frustrated and he couldn't tell the reason for it. He was worrying for Alfred of course, but the man was a grown-up just like him, and had to solve his problems on his own... he knew it wasn't easy like that.

There was something around the young man that didn't let Arthur's thoughts rest for a minute. Something in Alfred caught him and Arthur didn't know what it was precisely (beside the cliché still respectably attractive attributes of the man), however this evening had brought many surprises that he didn't assume about his friend. Tragically, one of this was the death of Alfred's father... he shook the woeful memories off his mind and let a resigned sigh out of his lungs before another thought crept its way into his attention.

Alfred was about to break up. Arthur shook his head with a sorrowful sigh and hummed in contentment as one light green fairy pretended to sit still beside him. The small creature acted as if she was watching the television screen (even though it was switched off) and when Arthur put his hand next to her, she flew up and decided to land on the top of the man's head. These little carefree things always helped his thoughts to lighten up, but this time even the presence of the tiny lady was insignificant to the blonde. Alfred was in trouble, he was ending a serious relationship which he struggled to save, but his own condition was the biggest obstacle of that, beside many other factors as well... the operation.

That, of which Arthur knew nothing about.

He hummed at the notion that Alfred might have many other secrets in front of him that he will never want to share still Arthur furrowed his brows slightly in disagreement since he really would have liked to know his friend's condition. Maybe he should pay more attention to him during the day or take some tasks out of his hands. If he knew what Alfred had to deal with, he could help and care about him better... but... for how long?

Arthur sucked in his breath and closed his eyes bitterly. Oh... right. Alfred moved in this town for his girlfriend only. If he breaks up...

The blond man didn't want to finish the train of thoughts. He didn't want to hear it from his own mind, from his self, that this all will be over. But again, why would Alfred stay? His family lives in Rochester... and there, since he grew up in that city, he could find a job easily... if he breaks up, he will look for comfort at his family, for sure... why would he turn to his boss for help? Why would he stay for him?

Arthur shook his head to clear his mind a little and calm his raging emotions. He had to take a deep breath, and actually talk to himself loud. "Calm down, Kirkland. Think a little."

What options did Alfred have? The obvious or the one Arthur would have liked better?

"It's okay, just think. Logic first, then emotions."

Alfred came to Rhode Island because Sandra asked him to, he had a hard time here to find a job, he barely knows anyone outside of the shop and Sandra's friends. He doesn't go to the gym or with Sandra to parties to meet people. He had enough of that, as he put it. His family is at home...

But... what if Arthur could convince him to pick a local chick that he likes? He... he would take him to... places that Francis showed him back then (hopefully they were still there) and perhaps Alfred would find someone as a reason to stay... Arthur let a sorrowful and resigned sigh out of his lips and brushed his unruly hair with his fingers to ease the desperation.

Why the panic? So what, Alfred would go home, and Arthur would stay...? He would continue the shop like before, and probably hire anothe—No. He wouldn't hire anyone. He would rather suffer alone than having someone else than Alfred... and at that, another idea stuck his mind and he tilted his head on the left, considering the spark in his mind.

What if Alfred would stay? What would happen...? He would be bitter and sad for a some time, disappointed in himself for having a ruined relationship behind his back but after a while he would move on and find a girl. Arthur wiped his eyes with his fingers to erase his heavy and piercing emotions just for a little more. Alfred would find a girl, would date her, then... leave with her, start a family and talk about her all day and be all lovey-dovey and that thought made Arthur sick. Once again, the bare idea of seeing other people having perfect lives and happiness, finding love and peace annoyed him to no end; while he sat in the weakly lit rooms alone every night, wondering about the past, the future... no matter how selfish and jealous he was these times, Arthur couldn't chase these darkening clouds away.

"No," he didn't want that torture to happen to himself, but finding someone again would be good for Alfred, he could see himself as a valuable person once again... he would stand up and be his old self, probably... Arthur cleared his throat to push that lump down and take another deep breath. He wanted Alfred to be happy, nothing else mattered... but he didn't want the other to forget him.

He wiped his eyes once more as if there was dirt in them and he winced when the pictures and fantasies filled his mind. Alfred, leaving with a girl for evenings; the tea parties together would cease quicker than he could actually notice anything, all because Alfred would be busy with the girl. One side of Arthur would blame him, get insulted by being neglected, maybe keep distance from him because Alfred would chit-chat with that girl, about everything then come and tell how proud and carefree he is with this newfound love.. and the distance between him and Arthur would grow and expand day by day.

Evidently Arthur would have to listen, because he was a good friend. Watch it, maybe observe it, imagine how good it was to be hugged once again, to feel close to someone once again, to feel warmth once again... and all expressed affection would remind him that these simple things are impossible and unreachable for eternity. He is left lone and all he has left is the shop to run. By himself, but if that means to maintain the business, he had to manage it all. Whatever life brought him.

_Maybe it would be better if he left..._

That was too much. Arthur stood up so fast that the tiny fairy tumbled off his head, fell in the air and got so scared that it fled back to the flowerpots to hide among the leaves. Arthur's fingers ached in the tight grip of his fists as he searched for his sane thoughts to see clearly again, above his sentiments.

Since when did he care so much about Alfred? Since when did he feel so dependent on him? He could go on for one and a half years without Alfred, he could do that again!

Who is he trying to deceive...?

Arthur sighed and walked in the kitchen to put the kettle on and prepare the tea egg but it was just a temporary distraction before his thoughts found him once again. The house remained silent and motionless and the ticking sound of the clocks echoed gloomily in the darkness since except for the living room, all lights were out. He was alone, and this time even if he tried to recall the feeling, he could hardly feel any better. The memory of Francis gave just a moment of peace before the thought of loneliness crept its way up to him once again.

It will be just like that. Francis left, now Alfred will be leaving too. Sooner, or later. He will.

And he'll remain alone till his end; it was determined to be like that.

To practically force his mind into concentration Arthur chose to continue the flower-pot embroidery pattern. He focused so hard on the little cubes of the linen that he even bit the tip of his tongue and furrowed his brows in such serious manner that Alfred would have fallen down of a chair from laughing. No, he didn't want to think about him. It would make things worse than they already were.

He didn't realize the time crawling slowly on the clock until the sound of the doorbell nearly caused him a heart attack. Arthur dropped his needle on the floor and in the sudden urge to find the small object the pillow in his lap fell to the ground with the linen and the thread as well. He gritted his teeth to hold back his sharp tongue from calling the intruder rude names since he had no idea who it was. Right.

Quick as he could, he collected his items from the floor and put them on the sofa then he stood up and strode to the windows but before pulling the curtains apart to look out; he pushed his back to the wall and peeked on the entrance of the house beside the fabric. He saw a man with two huge bags aside and a backpack on his shoulder. For the split of the second he frowned but then noticed how the lights of the streetlamp glowed on the golden hair of the guest...

Arthur's eyes widened in shock when he recognised the person; he pushed himself away from the wall and ran to the door to run down the stairs and open the front door too.

He had thousands of questions in his mind. What happened? Did he do it? Why did he bring bags? Why is he at his door? Did Sandra throw him out? Did she hurt him bad? Did they actually fight?..

..but all these thoughts cease to exist once Arthur opened the door of entrance and his gaze met two crushingly hurt and deeply sunk blue eyes, shining so sorrowfully that Arthur couldn't help but force his mind to slow down and he licked his lower lips in uncertainty. Alfred blinked, only to let his backpack fall to the ground and avert his eyes from his friend's figure.

He did it. And she threw him out in the night... he had nowhere to go. The time froze for the two friends in that very moment until Alfred gathered his voice to speak.

"Can I... can I stay at your place for a while?"

Oh Lord, Arthur thought, one hand still holding the door. The seconds of their silence grew into a miserable minute until Arthur kept searching Alfred's gaze and the answers in those ocean blue wells but the man couldn't hold the contact between their eyes. The smaller blonde after slowly realizing the entire situation of their meeting, gasped and with his green eyes wide open, he pulled the other into a tight and reassuring hug. The spectacled stumbled a bit: he dropped the other huge bag beside him and after a moment of perplexity, he gave in. His breaths were weak and trembling attempts at Arthur's hair and ear as he tightened his fingers into a fist. The other though, keeping him close and patting his shoulder after a while, even if his heart was breaking for his friend as well, hummed in relief when he felt Alfred's strong and confident hands embracing his back as well.

"Man, I don't know where I'd be without you," the younger bit his lower lip in order to control his shaky breaths and weak voice, like wounded and hopeless man would.

"No need to be devastated. Come inside, make yourself at home."

Alfred nodded at the last, still not leaving their posture but lowered his forehead on Arthur's shoulder to rest his head and mind there, letting his eyes shut and finally his thoughts arriving to a peaceful harbour. He knew Arthur would help him through this, he knew it in his bones... even through the quarrels he felt it inside as a calming notion, common sense and general logic. Arthur will be there for him, whatever happens.

. . .

Arthur had to admit: he didn't have guests for more than two years. When the realization struck him that he needed a clean and nice blanket, give a couple of his pillows, make place for Alfred's clothes and his stuff in the bathroom, he felt disorganized and puzzled. It was a sudden and rare occasion and it was Alfred! He definitely had to do his best.

He gave him a nice duvet with a nice cover of lavender flower pattern (that one was brought from his home actually), two pillows, one pair of flip-flops as Alfred called them because he seemed to feel better by the packing activity and establishing his new comfort place; put his mugs on the counter with his medicines, put the guitar in the corner beside the telly, collected his shoes in the entrance and the list could go on... all these which were completely missed from Arthur's life for two years. Living with someone again, even for a few days or a week suddenly seemed terrifying. He had to look after himself, not throw his dirty underwear in front of the laundry door but actually bring it in the basket, wash the dishes more frequently, clean more frequently, buy more food, not yawn freely as he did until now...

Even if Alfred was a man and his friend, Arthur felt the obligation to live up to his dignity and reputation, being an Englishman and Alfred's boss. Alright, he didn't have to pretend to like tea or enjoying to talk about the weather, he already had a special place in his heart for these activities... but how would Alfred accept him on the personal level...?

The flat and Arthur's inner storms seemed to quiet down after one or two hours of sorting and packing clothes and accessories of living, re-arranging the sofa in the living room and take the spare reading lamp from the storage... and Alfred laid down on the sofa, covered himself with the blanket up to his neck and like every time they watched TV, he pushed his feet to Arthur's thigh while the man was reading his Rutherford novel. The scene could be peaceful and idyllic if Alfred wasn't so silent... he just laid beside Arthur, held the blanket close and stared in the empty space, sometimes blinked... and the Englishman tried really hard to think of something which might lure his friend's thoughts away.

"Would you like to watch a movie?" He tried, he attempted to sound hoping and cheerful a little bit but Alfred closed his eyes and shook his head a little, then sniffed in the blanket. Arthur didn't get any spoken reply but he didn't intend to give up this easily.

"Then, maybe, you could install your PlayStation on my telly."

Alfred frowned for a couple of seconds, Arthur believed to see a little interest in him as he glanced on the television but the answer turned out to be the same as before. The spectacled man shook his head, and with the duvet pressed to his nose, took a deep breath. The steady ticking sound of the clock on the wall went on Arthur's nerves very fast in this unbearable dim silence, so he bit his lip from the inside to think harder...

"Did you bring your books too? You can read here with me if you want!"

"I don't want to," the low grunt of the sullen man broke Arthur's early hope.

"Then what do you want to do?"

The American sniffed again, closed his eyes for a second then looked back on the blonde, after a moment of consideration. "I wanna be here. Like this. 's good like this."

Well... maybe it was for the better to leave him lying there beside him...? Arthur unintentionally hummed and frowned upon the events and looked at the feet of the other, being pressed to the side of his thighs. The feet of the man were covered by the blanket but Arthur could feel and see that Alfred's toes were curled and as the grown-up, adult man pulled the blanket up even to his ears and sniffed in the fluffy linen of it, Arthur rolled his eyes in defeat. Alfred didn't want to play, or watch movies. Didn't want to read, nor have a discussion about anything. And here he thought, Alfred would manage this break-up as a mature man would...?

Arthur shook his head slowly and sighed before putting his book aside and put his hand on Alfred's shins to grab the attention of the other; he even cleared his throat and shifted an inch or two away from the taller man. The plan seemed to work, though the American frowned and grunted in dissatisfaction that Arthur had moved from the comfortable spot. He fidgeted some to push his feet to the other's thighs once again but for this he had to move as well, pull the pillow with his head and curl his toes with the blanket to have the same position from before. That made the older man raise an eyebrow curiously, a half-smile curling on his lips and he shifted away another inch to see the next reaction... but by this he went too far.

"You gotta hate me too, right?!" Arthur gasped and the innocent smile disappeared from his lips in the split of the second but Alfred just sat up, threw the blanket beside him and covered his face in his palms to hide his expression from the outside world. The blonde closed his eyes in sorrow and regret. He didn't want to hurt Alfred with this little game but he underestimated the pain in his friend's soul... he made a terrible mistake by misinterpreting the signs of a wounded man.

He quickly shifted to move beside him and in his embarrassment he grabbed his own knees and squeezed them, unable to say a word for seconds... Alfred sighed, defeated and exhausted light was seen in his eyes and this made Arthur's blaming on his self even worse. He glanced on the floor resignedly although his mind raced to find an apology until Alfred shook his head slowly and looked at his friend.

"Look, I... I'm sorry, I was playing," the smaller man admitted, still unable to lift his gaze to meet the sky-blue eyes of the other, only glancing at his feet in the dark-blue socks. "I didn't want to hurt you, Alfred. I'm sorry..."

The dark-blonde slowly nodded while his hands grabbed his own knees as well before sniffing in the cold air with his nose. He didn't expect Arthur to be so worked up on his misery... it was surprising to see and feel his caring but it filled him with a strange kind of perplexity. He didn't know what to say or do; his mind could only gather bits and pieces of thoughts, mumbling something like Arthur's muffled name and the fragments of "it's okay"... but then the man looked in his eyes and Alfred was swallowed up in the jaded regret which was mixed with the will to help and care. His heart sank and he had to swallow in order to resist the temptation to lift his hand and pull the other close.

"Arthur," he tried, but the blonde was faster and his plead only made Alfred's soul quench even more.

"Stay. Please."

He nodded and tore his eyes away from the Englishman's, staring in the blank space for a couple of moments before returning his gaze to the man, whose soul and feelings were just as deeply wounded as his own. He was just as lonely and bitter about the world as he was, still he had faith in his friend... and he needed him, just as much as Alfred needed him too.

"Of course, I stay."

In the end the younger man only hummed and squeezed Arthur's hand; the blonde's eyes softened and Alfred felt his insides loosen from the pressing grip of the day's misery, now feeling Arthur by his side and with that, recovering from the anxious thoughts of loneliness and disappointment.

When all of a sudden Arthur's eyes lit up with excitement as if he was a teenager who had a great secret to tell, Alfred smiled back at him and his friend chuckled.

"Hey, I have great wines in the storage, do you want to try one? I have like, ten types of red wines, Francis had a very good and sensitive taste about qualities, and they are all special and old ones!"

"I... I don't think we should drink, Arthur."

"One bottle won't hurt, now come and let's choose one!"

...

Thank you for reading, and still being here. I'm terribly sorry for the late updates. I have state exam in two weeks, but I want to make up for these absences. :3

Reviews and welcomed and appreciated, tell me your opinions!


	12. Chapter 9

Arthur took one bottle from the shelf and handed it to his friend who stood one or two steps behind him and was currently peeking above the blonde's shoulder. The shopkeeper glanced at the text written on the glass bottle then nodded. "That's a special wine," he stated, confident eyes meeting curious blue ones. "He got it from his sister back in Amiens."

"Then maybe we shouldn't drink this, if it's special," Alfred took the bottle to examine the colour and the sticker on it, which had the address and the information of the wine's origins. Before he could have handed it back to Arthur, the smaller man closed the storage door and stepped aside to walk back to the kitchen. Alfred stared at the liquid, all tempting and promising relief and shook his head. One bottle wouldn't hurt.

Arthur placed two glasses on the dining table and took the bottle from the protecting hands of the American; he found it lovely that the young man held the bottle as if it was a baby. The dark-blonde remained silent for the time being until he got the glass of wine from Arthur in his hands and they settled at the table in the kitchen.

For once, Alfred felt way too silent to talk and it scared him to no end. He was always the one to chat and encourage quiet people to speak, but now... He glanced at Arthur, who cleared his throat but not in a perplexed manner, to prompt him.

Moments grew into minutes and Arthur crossed his arms, his eyes wandering at the enchanting rays of evening light playing with the deep shades of the wine. The glass reflected the kitchen and the shiny objects like the teapot, the microwave and the counters - but Alfred's silver-framed glasses as well. Arthur sighed as his mind quickly abandoned the idyll of the still-life and glanced on his friend's sour expression. This boy...

"This is not the end, Alfred," he breathed softly, eyes still searching for the other's gaze.

"No, it's not, I know. It's more like... the necessary evil, to let something good happen," he muttered under his breath, eyes still being unable to meet Arthur's gaze. His chagrined heart couldn't bear the sight of the hay-blond man sitting right in front of him, knowing his immense strength that no longer applied to his own person.

Arthur's lips curled into an agreeing smile. "I'm glad you see it like that."

"Well, it was long time coming. I just had to say it out, basically," Alfred reached to wipe his nose and lifted his eyes to finally look into Arthur's. "She wasn't even surprised," he mumbled dejectedly.

"Drink," Arthur lifted his glass and cleared his throat to encourage Alfred to join him. The boy gave him a weak smile and obeyed. He placed the glass back gently on the table to glance up on the figure of his friend.

"She said, 'let's not waste each other's time anymore,'" he bit his lower lip and nodded as if saying he didn't wish to elaborate on his statement and Arthur agreed to that; raising an eyebrow and tilted his head on the right. After shaking his head disapprovingly he took another sip.

"That's a very good wine. I barely taste the alcohol in it," Arthur noted instead, holding the glass between his index and middle finger. He played with the light again and hummed when Alfred smiled back at him. He seemed to like the light through the crimson coloured liquid too.

"I agree. If this is a special wine, what did he get it for? You said it is from his sister."

Arthur rolled his eyes and gently placed the glass on the desk after drinking a little bit."Say his name Alfred, it's not forbidden."

The spectacled man stopped for a second before returning to lifting the glass to his lips again. He didn't have to look on Arthur's expression to know, the man was smiling softly and anticipated his agreement... but Alfred, at that moment, didn't understand this sudden change in Arthur's attitude towards Francis and his person... it has always been hard for the blonde to think about his late fiancée, what had changed now?

"Alright... thank you."

"Come on," Arthur nodded and reached for the bottle to refill his glass. "He got it to celebrate our trading license in the US. There was a good amount of paperwork behind this..." Arthur indicated the matter by pointing towards the floor with his index finger. "And when we came to America after the arrival of that document, we had to travel for the last time. We could stay and start our lives together, his dream had become true."

"I'm happy you guys made it," smiled the younger man. "Was it smooth?"

"Well, I've never been good at mechanic stuff or handling people on an everyday basis, but he was, so we complemented each other. Like..."

Arthur's thoughts ran too fast and he could stop his tongue from pronouncing those words to the curious man who was now waiting for him to finish his sentence. _Like we do these days._

"Like... he chatted everyone into buying more than they needed, or into trying new products," he continued instead and tried his best not to avoid Alfred's eyes while doing so but he knew that the dark-blonde knew him well enough to read his expressions and voice. Clearing his throat to ease the mood, he took his glass for another drink.

"My Dad was similar to him, then... he could talk ridiculously long with his friends, and teach them lessons about safety in the everyday life. He held lessons at schools and visited kindergartens very often and the Captain often got complaints that Dad was talking for too long, twice as long as he was invited for," chuckled the young American and decided to take his glasses off for the time being. The sudden change of the man's sight surprised Arthur to no end, seeing and digesting the transformation from a 24 years old man to a twenty years old, young and suddenly, so _pure_ person... he had to suck in his breath. Was Alfred always so young and... gorgeous, or has Arthur completely gone blind in these past months?

"What? It's me, Arthur, hey there!" Alfred called, cracking a smile at the older man's awe-struck gaze which only made his friend feel even more perplexed; the Englishman reached to hide his reddened cheeks in embarrassment and shame. "I apologize, I really do."

"Nah, that's the reaction when I take my glasses off," waved the other dismissively. "I don't even mention the ones I get when I get to show them Florida..."

Arthur winced at the quiet mumbling, he couldn't make out the last sentence very well. Did he say, Florida?

"What? What did you say? Stop the mumbling."

"I was just..." Alfred waved again but Arthur narrowed his eyes in suspicion as he sensed the hesitance in his friend's voice. "Memories." He had the most ridiculous ones from his high-school, but he didn't intend to let Arthur know about any of those... and he had a good reason for that. Dignity.

"Of those, I have many too."

"Ever feel as if you've got too many of them?" Glancing up curiously and at the same time bitterly, Alfred scratched the nape of his neck and chuckled when Arthur smiled again.

"Sometimes."

"I get the feeling that you think about them quite a lot," the young man crossed his arms and rested them on the table to lean forward comfortably and see the expression of his friend from a closer view. Arthur shrugged and continued to pay attention to the glass and its contents instead of the wheat blond man.

"I have a lot of time to think, actually."

"But you have a few hobbies, I know, you like this cross-stitching thing and you read a lot... you could open a library from the books that you've read already," laughing softly, Alfred drank from the wine and hummed in satisfaction. "That's a very good wine.. I like the taste it leaves on my tongue."

"Yes, French wines are among the best ones in the world for that very reason. He actually taught me how to taste one," Arthur chuckled at the memory dear to his heart. "He said, you know, in his accent, that; 'Arthur, if you take a sip from this, think of the meadows and the large sky above, the endless fields of hills and the town of Amiens', and he did this sound," to recite his late fiancée, Arthur straightened his spine and made a humming noise as if he was meditating. Alfred laughed, this time honestly and with a happy smile on his lips that made Arthur's heart flutter too in satisfaction. "He always sulked when I laughed at him too but I couldn't help it, he looked so ridiculous when he tried to be uptight."

"Oh jeez, it's a shame I didn't get to meet him."

"You can be sure about that!" The Englishman pointed his index-finger at the young American. "Though, he'd correct you all the time about your misconceptions of love, from all the rubbish you get from Hollywood. He knew astonishing French love stories and folk tales."

"I know folk stories too, and awesome ones."

"Oh, which, 'quoth the raven, nevermore'?" Arthur raised a belittling eyebrow but he met two almost bewildered blue eyes as he looked at Alfred again.

"Dear God, do you think that low of my education? I know awesome ghost stories that you'll be all trembling and whiny all night!"

The blonde smiled and copied Alfred's pose as if challenging him, but drank from his glass at the same time. "Is that so, Mister Alfred Jones?"

"You bet." The man grinned, his eyes finally sparking in determination and confidence. "But don't be a pest if you are scared to sleep."

. . .

Spending the time together, the two found their hobbies adjustable very well. After months of hiatus Alfred took his guitar from the stand and tuned it while Arthur settled comfortably on the sofa and prepared to continue his needlework. His friend cleared his throat and hummed to a soft song but then he silenced the guitar by placing his palm on the strings and looked up curiously and offered to tell a "scary story" which in the end frightened only him, and to no end.

Arthur let a resigned sigh out and shook his head before suggesting that maybe _he_ should tell a ghost story that is indeed scary. By this point Alfred gave up; he went back to the kitchen to get his own glasses and both of their glasses of wine and refilled them with so they could continue the bottle-emptying celebration which quickly turned back to the conversation about their pasts. Arthur couldn't decide if it was pleasant or not since Alfred was telling tales about his father, how wonderfully great father he was, and how generously he attended charity organizations and volunteered to help at New Orleans at the tragedy. The young man's mood seemed to brighten slowly, bit by bit as he chuckled or snorted at the memories and inside jokes that found his mind once again.

"Man, he'd probably tell me this girl isn't worth my nerves and my disappointment at all," he mentioned and brushed through his hair with his fingers, making it even more unruly but Arthur shrugged mentally to keep searching for the gaze of the other. His heart began to sink as he sensed the silence that Alfred held between his words but then blue-eyed man began to play a song on his guitar instead and hummed gently to the lyrics.

The minutes walked by in peace, until Arthur decided that yes, he could speak freely regarding Alfred and cleared his throat to ask for the younger's attention. "I think he'd be right."

The young man made a bored face and pretended to shrug his comment off but that made the Englishman only more stubborn to prove his point. He put his work aside and shifted from his position to move closer to the other; he leaned back to avoid the neck of the guitar and thus successfully sat only four or five inches from Alfred. The pretentiously calm, crystal-blue eyes glanced up to him for a couple of seconds before sliding back to the strings. "Think about it a little. You tried to show your caring and you did everything she told you to."

"Well, not everything. I cannot attend parties and I didn't want to go on shopping trips with her as program, because I thought, maybe we could go and have a good time in the park or go play some sports. I didn't give a shit when she was tired from work because she's never been tolerant about my exhaustion either, and I didn't wash her clothes anymore when she stopped washing mine. I learned how to iron my own clothes do be more independent from her! Oh, and I drank all her vanilla flavoured milk just because I could, and turned all her cream bottles upside down so when she opens one it'll pour out on her precious carpet."

Suddenly, Arthur's throat tightened and he had to bite his lower lip not to burst out...

Laughing.

"What?" Alfred held the guitar aside to turn and face Arthur properly, with an annoyed expression on his childishly puffed face... but as he watched his friend almost having tears in his eyes and wipe his eyes from the laughter, his sudden frustration eased and he found himself smiling. By then Arthur leant back on the pillows of the sofa, smiled and laughed softly while looking back at him, jade green eyes shining dreamily and in the upmost happiness Alfred ever saw.

"Silly, did you really drink all her vanilla milk?"

"Yea', freakin' did it," grinning, the owner of the sky-blue eyes poked his friend in the stomach, causing a surprised yelp. "You'd need some of that stuff too, you're all skin 'n bones."

"And I'll look like you, would you look at this tummy over here?" Arthur smirked as he returned the gesture.

"Hey, that's unfair, I have a healthy amount of fat and you have none! What are you on, rabbit diet?" Nodding upwards, Alfred kept the mocking grin on his face.

"I can't cook to save my life... you can imagine the food I make." The blonde rolled his eyes and chuckled at the sarcasm towards his own talent in gastronomy.

"Really, you said Francis banished you from the kitchen!" And there he went, Alfred raised his left index finger to make his point and lifted his chin to look sophisticated too. "Well, well, you must be a hard case if a Frenchman cannot teach you to cook!"

"Would you stop being a git just for tonight?!"

"Ha! I got you, I see it hurts yea? I can cook pretty well, if you wanna know, and I'm a spoiled Mama's little boy!"

"Shut up, would you?!" Arthur finally collected his guts to punch Alfred on his shoulder and as the young man laughed at him for literally being disabled in the kitchen except for the most important meals, he crossed his arms to begin sulking. "Thanks, I appreciate your friendly support."

"Don't take it so seriously, Arthur. Really, I'm just teasing you," still he continued chuckling sweetly, just in the right way to melt Arthur's forced-to-be frozen heart again. The blonde pretended to be hurt for a couple of more minutes, calling the spectacled all that came to his mind, starting from 'jerk' to 'moron' but Alfred kept smiling and playing on the strings of the guitar. His humming filled the space and soothed the air, both between them and in Arthur's soul as well. The hay-blond man leant back on the sofa again and behind half-close eyelids he pretended to keep his annoyed expression even though on the inside he took a deep breath and felt his heart calm, like the mirror of a lake after the disturbance of small pebbles.

Alfred's quiet, deep and peaceful humming along with the sounds of his guitar vibrated through the dim silence of the rooms, filling them with newly found life and hope. These two were long forgotten and thought never to be retrieved to him, Arthur had to clear his throat a little to ease the tight grip in his throat and chest. The man beside him kept playing his song, twanging the strings with practice and lazy ease in his wrist and in the end began smiling mindlessly as his song progressed. Arthur was about to take his needlework back into his lap to continue when the song suddenly ended and Alfred turned to him again.

"You know, you really are a jerk, Arthur," he stated, eyes sparkling in interest and curiosity at once. "You talked about Francis and told me how awesome that guy was and you've never shown me a picture of him?"

The Englishman frowned at the sudden request. "Now that you mention, I really haven't showed you any, but same goes to you for your Dad, moron."

"That can be fixed easily, I have a picture of him on my phone," the spectacled shrugged but raised an expecting eyebrow at his friend. "Escaping, are we?"

"No, it's not..."

"Alright, I assume you're into ugly guys, then..." and with a pretentiously sad and resigned sigh, Alfred reached to hold a cord on the neck of his guitar. "I shall sing the sad song of my sad heart, then."

Arthur rolled his eyes and copied Alfred's eyebrow-raising but he doubled the effect with an utterly bored expression until he heard the last comment of the young man; then he stood with an annoyed grunt to walk to the bookshelf behind the sofa.

"Oh stop it you git, I'll show you an album of him, then!"

"Wow, you have an album?" Alfred turned around to check the shorter man's actions and let his jaw drop when he saw the piles of albums that set on one shelf with dates and names of places. Arthur caressed his jaw as he considered taking the album from the university years, when Francis had slightly longer hair and anyway, those years were cloudless and carefree for both of them... there shouldn't be any awkward pictures with parents or siblings. He took that one and walked back to sit beside Alfred again, who put the guitar back on its stand and settled comfortably by his side, even reaching behind his shoulder to nudge closer to see the pictures on the pages properly. The album cracked as it opened, old and lazy papers separating from each other slowly, revealing unforgettable bits of memories from Arthur's and Francis' past.

"This one was made back in London at my favourite kebab place," he pointed at an already yellow-ish picture, which was made in a tiny diner in Kensington, South London. Francis had his hair tied back and wore a simple black jacket with designer jeans. At the moment of the flash, he was smiling dearly in the camera and tilted his head towards Arthur who was bitching about something like always... the older chuckled upon looking at his image. "He always took me there when I had a bad day, even if it took one and a half hours to get there. Dear God, I hope the owner still has the place..." he glanced peacefully at Alfred, who smiled back at him, eyes shining in contentment and happiness. "So? What do you think of him?"

The young man hummed and took a closer look on Francis' face, even on the other photos too. Francis and Arthur at the Buckingham Palace, Arthur bored to death with crossed arms but Francis is excited and holding Arthur's sleeve in attempt to cheer him too... Francis and Arthur sitting in Hide Park, Arthur feeding ducks... on the other picture Francis probably tried to put a flower on Arthur's head and the man didn't like it, he really seemed like an angry cartoon figure who put all he had in the fight of not-having-the-flower. Alfred chuckled and shook his head as he looked back on his boss, endearing and adoration in his sky-blue eyes.

"You didn't really change over the years?"

"Oh, I did!" Arthur protested and turned a page to show another aspect of them. "This was taken when I really got pissed at him. We are at Trafalgar Square, and he asked if that statue high above was Napoleon when it was Nelson. And he asked it seriously, and I thought he was teasing, so I looked at him and asked, 'are you seriously asking if we, the British, would put a _Frenchman_ in the middle of London, high above the city as a statue?' And by that time he might have realised he asked something stupid because he laughed and nodded but anyway I punched him. Nowadays, even if you say something stupid or ridiculous I'm not punching you. You'd be purple all over."

"Ah, like you could ever punch me that hard" Alfred raised an eyebrow which Arthur took as challenging and he smirked.

"Okay, big boy, we'll see that."

"Got it, boss..." Nodding slowly with anticipation and cheerfulness, Alfred glanced down at the photos once again. "That one?"

"Ah, that's the cafeteria of the university. They had very good biscuits in little baskets and I was always hanging around there."

"Yea, couldn't bring your own in public places, eh?"

Arthur refused to comment on that, simply took a deep breath and shot a warning look towards his friend who was laughing joyfully on his own joke.

"He never cut his hair?"

"No, he liked it that way. Since I've known him, he always had that long hair, and he didn't have to do anything with it to have it wavy."

"Can I be honest for a second?"

"Sure, but... with respect."

"Of course, no worries, but if you hadn't told me that you were with him, I would have known anyway that he was flaming. Kind of obvious that you two were together, quite obvious."

Smiling softly, Arthur hummed in agreement as his eyes wandered on the printed memories. In that moment he felt his chest and throat tighten in longing but somehow, having Alfred and his silly jokes by his side it wasn't that terrible like it used to be. He looked straight in Francis' eyes and felt the gaze on him, the eyes of the man whom he loved dearly, staring back at him from another realm of existence. Francis was on the other side of the river and Arthur had to stay. It had to be like that but it didn't have to be so dark...

"Hey... if you wish, we can put them away. I didn't want you to..."

"I'm alright, don't fret dear."

His soft voice soothed Alfred's worries though the spectacled moved even closer and hugged Arthur's shoulder to remind him of his presence the best he could... he didn't want to distract the blonde of his thoughts since it seemed, finally by simply looking at the photos and remembering the tons of events spent together and now being separated, Arthur was on the edge of finding a way for his emotions. The Englishman soon found his voice again and continued to tell the stories attached to each and every photo.

The yellow fades and curls at the edges reminded the wheat blond American on the years Arthur and Francis spent together as well as on the facts that after the death of Francis, Arthur got hundreds of pictures from their friends who ever had a picture of him and Francis together. Arthur mentioned that from their former university classmates he received such understanding and support that he couldn't handle their sympathy. He got letters and gifts, all stored and held together in boxes for the future to remember, a Belgian girl offered to visit him to keep him company but he preferred to stay alone that time.

"I hope you don't mind me around."

"Come on, I'd be bored to death," the man with the heavy eyebrows lied, Alfred could sense it in his voice and like every time he was lying, Arthur blinked a few times upon saying the last clause of his sentence. "This was made in a pub on the corner of Warwick road and Belgrave Road, The Marquis. Before we went to France I wanted to have my last time in a real English pub, and we had a very good time in there. The weather was so nice that we sat outside but now in retrospect, we should have made pictures about the inside of the pub. It's authentic and breath-taking for those who like original wooden furniture and cosy places. That time we were sure that we will live in a tiny flat in Amiens, together... and we did that."

"Wow.. you guys were pretty determined."

"Eh," Arthur winced and clicked with his tongue," we broke up many times. In the beginning, he didn't get me at all and I didn't get him either but you know, there was this pull towards him and he couldn't stop but look for me all the time even if he had to go to the most dangerous places in London, where his French accent was very out of place."

"And that's not an understatement?"

"No it's not. I had a pretty hard time fitting in university but actually it was him who made me do the steps I was afraid of. I saw him hitting on women and men but he always came back to me and taught me not to be so strict about stuff all the time. I guess that's why I can put up with your ordeal when you change your clothes and leave your shoes in the way."

"Oh, Arthur Kirkland the Generous," Alfred rolled his eyes. "He seems to be a nice guy, and a very patient one..."

"He was indeed, very patient with me, to grow up to have a real and serious relationship."

"Was he your first?" Arthur had to repress a smile, liking the way Alfred got all curious about Francis and his love life in the past. The young man still held his shoulders and his thumb was caressing him through the fabric of his button-up shirt, though Arthur wasn't sure if Alfred did that on purpose or just forgot about it...

"No, I had a few affairs but none of them were serious. He was the first who really, truly had feelings towards me and intended to prove it to me. We fought about everything all the time, I could never ever agree with him in anything and yet he remained always calm and..." shaking his head in disbelief the man turned another page. "He was always in harmony with everything he started or touched. He was a wonderful person."

"There is no doubt about that."

"Oh, that one here was made in Brighton. His mother called him that morning that his cat died and he was so sad that I took him from London and went down to Brighton to have two days off from everything. That's why he has that face. He has a similar expression when he wants me to do something that I don't want to, like, make him food or serve him breakfast in bed. Such a pest, he is sometimes."

Alfred blinked a few times in confusion but chose to remain silent as Arthur kept blabbering about his late fiancée, even though he did all in present tense. Heart clenching in his chest and wincing, Alfred kept his composure but decided to lean in a bit towards Arthur's head and close his eyes to calm the grip of sorrow and urge of comforting inside, breathing the menthol scent from Arthur's hair just for a couple of seconds. When he returned to the album, Arthur was talking about yet another picture, when Francis decided to wake Arthur on his birthday with a chocolate syrup cake, right in the man's face while one of their friends made the pictures.

Alfred didn't want to know what Francis had faced after the moment of Arthur's waking...

"I wanted to put his head in the toilet and flush it, so his hair would be ruined too, but our friend stopped me and saved him. The lucky bastard."

. . .

"And who's this?" Alfred reached to point at a figure and upon seeing the photo Arthur's eyes widened in shock and he quickly tried to flip the page but Alfred caught his hand. "Is that..." the spectacled leant in to look in Arthur's eyes to see his expression and the obvious blush on his cheeks, blue eyes dancing in sudden happiness and at the same time, looking unconvinced.

"Nothing, that's nothing..."

"Don't tell me you had green hair once! My tight-assed, grumpy boss was a punk! You are busted, Arthur, seriously... how could you keep that as a secret?! Holy shit, and you had piercings and... Jesus Christ that is a yellow pair of steel toed boots?"

"Stop ridiculing me you idiot, I had my time okay?!"

"I'm not ridiculing you, I'm impressed and I can't believe it!" Alfred reached to look at the picture again and Arthur leant back on the sofa and with that in the other's embrace, in defeat. He even lifted his hands to wipe his face in embarrassment. "I can't believe, you had a piercing in your ear and green hair, dude... and that studded jacket, you were not kidding."

"Not really, indeed..."

"And did you do stuff too, or just hang around the cool kids?"

Arthur frowned for a moment before connecting their gazes, curious crystal-blue meeting annoyed green ones. "You mean, did I get in trouble? Of course I did."

"What did you do?"

"Everything that you're not supposed to, Mama's little Alfie," Arthur shifted to take a hold on the album again and flipped the page, earning a sulking and definitely not happy grunt from the American. "I don't see why are you so interested in my past, Mr. Jones."

"Probably more interesting than mine, you know..."

"We'll talk about that another night, I promise," looking back at the man softly, Arthur tried to direct their discussion towards sleeping but the young man waved at him dismissively.

"Don't worry, it really was that boring as I say. I mean, just... basketball, guitar playing, suburban family... then get to university where the life of the city punched me in the face and I got a girlfriend, and everyone around us spread the rumour that we were the perfect couple. I took her to places, paid a ridiculous amount of money to make her happy and in the meantime I worked my ass off to pay my living, I loved dnb and dubstep parties but I didn't have time or energy to go usually while she was out almost four times a week. I always loved playing video games, and I guess that made me boring. I'm totally certain that you had a much more memorable and eventful life than I had."

"Believe me, more than one time I wanted a life that you had."

Alfred sighed again. His breath was exhausted and his expression spoke of disappointment in his own self at which Arthur bit the inside of his lower lip. He couldn't do anything that evening to help Alfred's thoughts about himself but... it would have been a miracle if he had. The man had to sort his emotions and conclusions about the events that happened to him that night, and it was not Arthur's responsibility nor his duty to get all this done in one evening when Alfred tried to avert his attention to other things instead. It seemed, the young man didn't want to care about his break-up, but rather listen to Arthur's stories all evening...

"Please, let me go to sleep for now. We'll have a hard day tomorrow since it'll be Saturday," the older man asked tenderly, expecting a resigned expression and sad light in Alfred eyes but instead the American nodded in agreement.

"You're right... we should take some rest, and tomorrow we'll start with a blank page."

At that, the hay blond man smiled and nodded too. This new beginning reminded him of many things at once, and nearly all of them were connected to the tired and sleepy person beside him.

Arthur stood up from the sofa and walked to the bookshelf to place the album back, before turning to check Alfred. His friend walked to his bag and took clothes off with a little pack of toiletries then excused himself to the bathroom. The Englishman shook his head as he looked at the mess Alfred left at the sofa so he made the bed for him there, organized the pillows and the duvet and brought the spare lamp closer to the sofa to be within arm's reach.

That night, even though he woke up at midnight as usual and wasted half an hour to calm his mind and be able to sleep again, he listened Alfred's quiet snoring and the lonely blonde smiled in contentment. Even if he knew, his friend will not stay with him forever and one day will leave, Arthur decided to cherish and live through the moments he had. Once he put his head back on the pillow and pulled the blanket on his shape, Arthur felt the familiar sense of warmth fill his entire being.

. . .

He woke to the scent of coffee and toast. The flat wasn't silent as it used to be... the fairies flew towards him as they spotted him sitting on the bed as he wiped his sleepy eyes and brushed through his hair (living chaos as it was). The shiny creatures sparkled happily and rushed to the kitchen from where the delicious and fresh scent came from... but Arthur grunted as if he hadn't sleep for a week or so, before sliding his feet in the slippers and made his way to the bathroom. The white door stood open which was entirely uncommon since Arthur always closed all doors behind himself, so he grunted something beneath his nose and stepped in the tiny space and check his face in the mirror.

First, he didn't notice it. He looked at his stubbles, stroked them and made a bored and disgusted face as he almost whined, having to shave again in his life and wasting the time with it for nothing... but he hated when his skin wasn't smooth and silky so he didn't have any other choice. His mind gradually established his consciousness truly, and when he reached for his toothbrush on the small shelf under the mirror and spotted not one, but two toothbrushes, his eyes widened in shock.

_He wasn't alone._

His breath and his heart skipped, eyes unable to tear away from the sight of the two toothbrushes, and Arthur stood in the small bathroom, stunned and paralyzed until minutes later, he looked back in the mirror once again. His eyes, once dim, empty and worn out, now sparkled in joy, cheerfulness and anticipation... from the mere fact... he wasn't alone. Alfred was there with him.

The man in the mirror smiled. And smiled. And smiled, so wide and with such bright delight that he couldn't stop smiling together with his own reflection, his muscles in his cheeks began to hurt.

The cheerful greeting from the kitchen called his mind back to reality but even then, Arthur doubted if he could live through one more moment in such an emotional state. He gripped his own toothbrush and held it tight among his fingers, staring at the other toothbrush and looked up to smile at his own reflection. _Look..._

_So what can happen once... may happen once again._

He wasn't alone. Not anymore.

...

Author's notes:

So...? Did you like it? :3

I wanted to apologize to all of you, because I made you guys wait for the last 2-3 chapters way too long. I do hope this will not happen again and I'll try my best to update at least every second weekend.

Special thanks to Beckett Simpleton, RawrGodzirra and HappytoMeetYou for helping me (to get my stuff done and stop playing video games to get inspiration) with this chapter.

Please let me know about your opinions or by chance, questions! Reviews are welcomed and appreciated as always. :3


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